


Let The Feeling Grow

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [13]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (punching Paul that is), Alpha Brian, Alpha Roger Taylor (Queen), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beta John, Childbirth, Depression, Developing Relationship, Difficult childbirth, Discussion of Abortion, Don't copy to another site, Feelings, Fertility Issues, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Happy endings only in this house!, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Implied Sexual Content, Live Aid, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Sexual Content, Miscarriage, Non-Graphic Smut, Omega Freddie Mercury, Omega Verse, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Paul Prenter Being an Asshole, Platonic Cuddling, Protective John Deacon, Protective Roger Taylor (Queen), Punching, Roger and Freddie are a mess someone help them, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tragedy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, it just might take a while to get there, it's Paul don't act surprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-08-10 17:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 150,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: "Among all the trash was a pregnancy test and as Brian stared at Freddie, it clicked.Freddie hadn’t brought anyone home, or stayed the night with anyone- how could he, when the world took one look at the mark on his neck and thought he was taken? There was, by all logic, only one person he could have slept with.Brian and Deacy had both been away a month ago…Roger."OR: one drunken, impulsive night changes everything, leaving Roger and Freddie with a lot of feelings to sort out.





	1. Exit Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea- and I'll be honest, I feel weird not writing about Jim and Freddie this time. For those of you who've been requesting this, I hope you enjoy it 💕
> 
> Who even knows how long this is going to be, this series was only meant to have three parts originally, yet here we are. Well, "Sing A New Song" is finishing soon, so it seemed like the right time to get this one started. Let's get going!

**London, England, June 1974** **   
** ** _“Mamma mia, here I go again! My my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again? My my, just how much I've missed you. Yes, I've been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?” -Mamma Mia, _ ** **ABBA**

Brian had noticed Freddie seemed  _ off  _ ever since yesterday. It was just the two of them in the flat for the weekend; John had been invited to stay with Veronica’s family and Roger had gone home to visit his mum.

It wasn’t that Freddie seemed like he was ill; it was just that he’d gotten quiet. Brian often found him staring off into space. Honestly, he assumed it was Freddie’s anxiety acting up, it usually did when Freddie didn’t have anything to distract himself with, but when Brian suggested they head to the pub Freddie had vehemently shook his head.

_ Yeah,  _ Brian thought.  _ Definitely anxiety. _

A little part of him wanted to ring Roger and ask him what to do; he  _ always  _ seemed to know how to help Freddie’s anxiety. But no, Freddie was his friend too, he could handle it. 

Still, it was worrying when Freddie, his sweet, bubbly Freddie, barely spoke.

“Flat’s looking messy,” Brian said and indeed it was. There were take-away boxes everywhere, dirty plates and glasses piling up and all their beds were unmade. The floor was so grungy it made his nose wrinkle. They’d been lax ever since they got back from their tour. “Help me clean it?”

Freddie nodded, still not looking at him, seemingly barely hearing him. Sighing, Brian went in search of the cleaning supplies.

(Bloody good thing he did too, or he was willing to bet Freddie would have stayed quiet until his scent gave him away.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


Cleaning the living room and kitchen passed without incident. It wasn’t until Brian went to clean the bathroom that the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“Fred, can you bring me the broom?” he called, as he emptied the waste-paper basket into a bin bag. He heard Freddie give a sharp, horrified gasp.

“Wait, Bri darling, I’ll clean in there!”

His shout and hurried footsteps startled Brian into dropping the bag, and the trash spilled out onto the floor-

And among the tissues, the empty toothpaste containers, make-up wipes and toilet rolls, was a pregnancy test.

It was  _ positive. _

For a moment, Brian quite forgot how to breathe. He could only stare at the test and think  _ Oh my God, what the hell?  _ before his stunned gaze slowly went to Freddie. His friend was standing in the doorway, eyes wide with terror; one hand covered his mouth as he took slow, deep breaths, like he was trying not to vomit. The other hand was pressed down on his stomach, his flat stomach that wasn’t going to stay flat for long.

It all clicked.

Freddie hadn’t brought anyone home, or stayed the night with anyone- how could he, when the world took one look at the mark on his neck and thought he was taken? There was, by all logic, only one person he could have slept with.

Brian and Deacy had both been away a month ago…

_ Roger. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May...** ** _   
_ ** ** _“So I wanna know, what's the name of the game? Does it mean anything to you? What's the name of the game? Can you feel it the way I do? Tell me please, ‘cause I have to know. I'm a curious child, beginning to grow.” -The Name of The Game, _ ** **ABBA**

Freddie wasn’t really sure what the trigger was. It just...Sort of happened. 

Roger was his friend, Roger was his  _ best friend.  _ If there was ever a moment when Freddie thought  _ Will we...? Are we going to...? What if...?  _ it could be put down to the fake-dating confusing his instincts. The mixed scents were just causing some confusion. That was all.

But as they were dancing they ended up practically pressed flat against each other. Roger’s hands went to Freddie’s hips as they had a thousand times before. Nothing new, Freddie told himself. No biggie.

Except the way Roger was looking at him was new.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. For a moment that felt like an hour, they stared at each other, and Roger’s eyes flicked to Freddie’s mouth and-  _ oh. _

_ Is he…? _

Roger’s thumb brushed over Freddie’s lips and the next thing Freddie knew, they were kissing.

He could blame it on the alcohol. They were both drunk, that was it.

(Though they weren’t that drunk at all, who was he kidding? Not himself, not really.)

“Let’s go home,” Roger said and Freddie nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June...** ** _   
_ ** ** _“I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room. Can anybody help me with these exit wounds? I don't know how much more love this heart can lose, and I'm dying, dying from these exit wounds. Wounds, when they're leaving, the scars you're keeping. Exit wounds. When they're leaving, the scars you're keeping.” -Exit Wounds, _ ** **The Script**

“He’s going to hate me,” Freddie sobbed and Brian’s heart just  _ broke. _

“No he won’t,” he said, hugging Freddie tighter. “He’d never hate you, Fred,  _ never. _ ”

They’d long since moved to the sofa; as the whole story came pouring out, Freddie had burst into tears- so here they were, with a secret that seemed impossible to believe, and Freddie sobbing onto Brian’s shoulder.

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. He hadn’t noticed anything different between them.

“Have...Have you talked about it?” he asked hesitantly, certain he already knew the answer- and sure enough, Freddie shook his head.

“You have to, Freddie.”

“I know,” Freddie mumbled, mopping at his eyes. “Sorry for the waterworks, darling.”

“Don’t be daft, I reckon you deserve a good cry.”

Freddie laughed weakly, but almost instantly drooped again.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“If you want me to be here when you tell him,” Brian began, but Freddie was already shaking his head.

“I can do it,” Freddie said, but he didn’t sound so sure.

Brian got it. This...This changed everything. Sure, there’d been moments when he  _ wondered,  _ when he thought that they were maybe a bit  _ too  _ convincing...There had been times when he wondered if they’d get together after all, but- but he hadn’t really considered what would happen if they  _ did. _

But they weren’t together, were they? They’d had sex and then didn’t talk about it. 

And now Freddie was pregnant and panicking.

It wasn’t exactly what Brian would call a relationship.

“My parents are going to kill me,” Freddie mumbled, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“...You’re keeping it then?” Brian asked gently.

Freddie shrugged, eyes still closed. “I...I don’t know. Maybe. I think so.” His hands went to his stomach, pressing down harder and harder, like he was trying to feel the baby out, like he was trying to find it. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

“We’ll be there whatever happens, you know that, right?” Brian tugged Freddie back against him, tucking Freddie under his arm. “It’ll be alright, Fred. This is  _ Roger  _ we’re talking about. He’d rather die than hurt you, you  _ know  _ that.”

That finally seemed to help; Freddie relaxed, sagging against him.

“Right,” he said. “It’s Roger.”

Which, of course, was when the front door slammed open and Roger came sauntering in.

“Hey,” he said brightly- but when he got a good look at them, when he saw the obvious tear tracks on Freddie’s cheeks, his smile vanished. “What’s wrong?” Just like that, he was on the sofa with them, on Freddie’s other side, grabbing Freddie’s hands. “Fred? What happened, are you okay?”

Freddie looked at Brian, and Brian took the hint.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, hauling himself to his feet. Before he left, he squeezed Freddie’s shoulder. “Call me if you need me,” he said and headed off to his room.

Just before he closed his door he heard Freddie say, “I have something to tell you.”

  
_ Please Rog,  _ Brian thought- no,  _ prayed. Please, for once, keep your cool. _


	2. Me, Myself And Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Freddie have an overdue discussion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, how's Roger gonna take it guys?

**May…** **   
** ** _“Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend; only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ah, ah, ah). Carve your name into my bedpost, ‘cause I don't want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off.” -Dress, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

It happened nearly a week before Deacy and Brian went to visit their families. The four of them were lounging in the living room, stuffing themselves with Chinese take-away and knocking back the wine and beer; they had the TV on in the background, it was some news report bitching that an Omega got a government job that “should have” gone to an Alpha.

“Alphas get all the perks,” Freddie snorted, taking another gulp of wine. “That Omega guy’s more qualified,  _ deal  _ with it.”

Which somehow spiralled into a conversation about what perks their dynamics had; it was established pretty fast that Alphas...tended to get the best of everything.

“So Alphas basically run the world,” Freddie said with a drunken wave of his hand. “And Betas can get away with being sneaky and badass if no one’s looking...What do Omegas get?”

There was a brief pause. Roger admittedly drew a blank.

He choked on his beer when Brian snapped his fingers and proclaimed, “You get multiple orgasms!”

Deacy shrieked with laughter and fell off the armchair. Roger desperately tried to get his breath back, unable to believe  _ Brian  _ of all people had said that.

Freddie stared at Brian, but slowly he started to smirk.

“Hm, that’s a good perk,” he all but purred, and-

And it was like something in Roger’s brain short-circuited. His mouth went dry. Something in his brain went  _ Freddie  _ and  _ multiple orgasms  _ and he just- he couldn’t quite get the image out of his head.

He wasn’t blind. Freddie may have been self-deprecating about his looks, but he was a stunner; he knew how to draw people’s gazes just by walking into a room.

But Freddie was his best friend. They were  _ fake  _ dating to keep Freddie  _ safe,  _ not to subject him to more ogling, let alone from  _ Roger. _

It was the drink, Roger told himself, trying very hard to  _ not  _ look at Freddie, trying his best to clear his mind of all images and thoughts. It was just the drink.

(But was it really?)

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June…** **   
** ** _“I'm over my head, and I know it, I know it; I'm doing my best not to show it, to show it. Whatever it takes to be what I was meant to be, I'm going to try. 'Cause I'm living the dream and I know it, I know it. I'm trying my best not to blow it, to blow it, and I know everything will be fine with me, myself and time.” -Me, Myself And Time, _ ** **Demi Lovato**

“Rog, can you please say something, you’re scaring me.”

Roger forced himself to resurface. He blinked hard, shook his head and tried to remember how to breathe.

Pregnant. Freddie was pregnant. Freddie was pregnant because of  _ him,  _ oh God he’d fucked up so badly; how was  _ this  _ keeping Freddie safe? Christ, he was no better than his father, he was no better than  _ Prenter. _

“I’m sorry,” Freddie mumbled and  _ that  _ finally brought him back to his senses.

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Roger burst out. Freddie looked exhausted and terrified, tiny enough to snap in half and  _ that  _ just  _ would not do.  _ “Christ, Fred,  _ I’m  _ the one who started this!”

Teary as Freddie was, he rolled his eyes. “It takes two to tango, darling.”

“Yeah, but-” He cut himself off with annoyed growl. “I’m the one who promised to protect you; how is  _ this  _ protecting you?”

“Are you mad?” Freddie asked quietly.

“Not as you,” Roger promised, taking his hand. “I just...I fucked up again.”

“Roggie, look at me.” Freddie didn’t give him a choice in the matter; he took Roger’s face in his hands and made him look. “I could have said no at any time. Did I say no?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Did I try push you off?”

“...No.”

“Did I in  _ any  _ way indicate I didn’t want it? That I didn’t want you?”

“...No,” he was forced to say.

“If memory serves correct I said  _ yes, _ ” Freddie said, some of his typical fire coming back into his eyes. “So if I catch you beating yourself up over this, I’ll kick your ass, darling.”

Finally, Roger smiled (rather hard to accomplish with Freddie’s hands still squishing his cheeks.) “Sounds counter-productive, Fred.”

“Yes, well, so is sulking.” Freddie let him go, running a hand through his tangled hair and mopping at his tear-stained cheeks. “So...Are we going to talk about this or not? Because I’ve spent the past month thinking you- you hated it, or you thought it was a mistake, and frankly Roger I’ve been terrified you’d hate me for this. So can we  _ please  _ just fucking  _ talk? _ ”

“Talk,” Roger said. “Right. Okay. I, uh....Fuck,  _ you’re  _ not mad?”

“No,” Freddie said. After a moment, he admitted quietly, “I’m scared.”

“Do you want to keep it?” Roger asked. Freddie shrugged; then he nodded.

“I...I think so,” he said. His hands went to his stomach and he bit his lip. “I mean...It’s  _ yours,  _ it’s not like I’m stuck with someone who’s going to- to hit me or take advantage or insist I stop working. It’s  _ you,  _ Rog, I- I feel safe with you around, you know that.”

He did know that, Freddie had said so before, but it still made him feel choked up. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed again, almost tearful, he pulled Freddie to him, hugging him tightly, burying his face in Freddie’s hair.

“I’ll be there,” Roger promised through gritted teeth. “No matter what happens, I promise I’ll be there.” Freddie clung to him and Roger did his best to stay calm, to keep his breathing slow and even; he blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes dry. Freddie didn’t blame him; Freddie didn’t hate him, Freddie wasn’t angry with him.

And God help them, there was a baby in there.

Cautiously, his hand slid down between them to Freddie’s stomach; after a moment Freddie rested his hand on top of Roger’s.

“Think EMI will fire us?” Freddie asked quietly.

“No,” Roger said; after all, they still had a contract. EMI wouldn’t let them go yet- but they wouldn’t make this easy either. He could hear Foster yelling from here, he could feel Sheffield’s condescending attitude from here. He doubted Reid would be pleased either. Christ,  _ Deacy  _ didn’t even know yet. And then there was Freddie’s family, and Roger’s family, even their fans. 

It was a lot of people to tell. While he didn’t doubt his mum would be ecstatic, he knew enough about Freddie’s parents to know they’d be furious.

But he wasn’t going to worry about everyone else right now. He was going to focus on Freddie.

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” he asked.

“No,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “I only took the test yesterday.”

Roger licked his lips, feeling suddenly (and perhaps stupidly) shy as he asked, “Can I go with you when you do?”

To his relief, Freddie laughed, snuggling in closer. “Obviously, darling.”

That was one worry off his mind. Because Roger meant it; come hell or high water, if Freddie wanted him around he’d be there.

Because come hell or high water, Freddie was his best friend.

And Roger had promised to be there, he’d promised to protect him. Now that just...extended to their baby.

_ Their baby.  _ Holy shit. This  _ wasn't  _ how he’d imagined having kids.

For a while they were quiet, both of them still with a hand on Freddie’s stomach. Through the course of their fake relationship they’d developed a few signals, asking silent permission to kiss each other if they felt the situation called for it, or even if they just felt like it.

Like right now. Roger tapped Freddie’s hip quickly, three times. Freddie pulled back to look at him; to Roger’s relief he was smiling. He nodded.

So Roger kissed him, cupping the back of Freddie’s head. It wasn’t a very long kiss, but he felt grounded again when they pulled back, easily returning Freddie’s smile.

“Everything okay?” Brian poked his head around the corner.

“I think so,” Freddie said. Brian’s shoulders sagged his relief as he grinned.

“I’m fearing Deacy’s wrath,” Roger said flatly- but he sure as hell meant it. Freddie may have been protective of Deacy, but Deacy  _ adored  _ Freddie. If he thought for even a  _ second _ that Roger was screwing Freddie around, there’d be blood.

Typical really, that Freddie and Brian only laughed at him.

“I’m serious!” Roger protested- and his blood actually ran cold when he heard a key in the lock.

Deacy came in, carrying his overnight bag, beaming and humming to himself.

“Hey guys,” he said brightly. “How’s it going?”

“We have some news,” Freddie said with that Deacy-reserved sweetness in his voice; before he could say anything further Roger stood up.

“Bye,” he said abruptly and fled to his room. He’d just locked the door when he heard Deacy yell;  _ “What!?” _

And then, sure enough, came the thumping footsteps and the furious shout of,  _ “ROGER TAYLOR, GET OUT HERE!”  _ and then Deacy was pounding on the bedroom door, yelling at Roger to  _ “FACE ME LIKE A MAN!” _

Brian and Freddie didn’t come save him; he could still hear those traitors laughing.

And despite it all, Roger felt some of the tension leaving him. They could do this; they had Brian and Deacy, they had each other.

He’d worry about everyone else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Roger, Deacy's gonna kill you.
> 
> Rog and Freddie haven't gotten everything off their chests; where would be the fun in that? 😉 We have a relationship to develop here!


	3. Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Roger have their first checkup (and rather unwillingly break the news to some friends.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't expect everyone to be into this, I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far 💕 (Though honestly every time I see I've left Jim out of the tags I go to add him out of habit. I almost feel guilty.)

**May…** **  
** ** _“People everywhere, a sense of expectation hanging in the air. Giving out a spark, across the room your eyes are glowing in the dark. And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end; masters of the scene. We've done it all before and now we're back to get some more. You know what I mean.” -Voulez Vous, _ ** **ABBA**

The walk home had been  _ electric,  _ that was the only word for it. The tension kept building and building; it felt like Freddie was receiving an electric shock whenever their hands brushed; he suddenly found himself blushing whenever Roger smirked at him. 

The second their front door closed, Roger was on him, pressing him back against the door and kissing him deeply, hands tight on Freddie’s hips, nudging his legs open.

Freddie was all too happy to oblige. Damn if he knew what brought this on, but he wasn’t complaining. 

There’d been some times when Freddie  _ wondered,  _ but- well, he figured it was all in his head. Just the fake-dating and scents confusing him. Just the hormones causing some mixed feelings.

But if  _ this  _ was anything to go by, it hadn’t just been him.

Next thing he knew Roger lifted him clear off the ground; Freddie’s legs wrapped around his waist automatically, biting down on a whimper as Roger’s lips went to his neck.

“Rog,” he gasped, and before he could say anything else, Roger pulled back and said, “Bedroom?”

Freddie nodded, already breathless, clinging to Roger as the blond Alpha grinned and carried him down the hall.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June…** **  
** ** _“I fall in love with you every single day, and I just wanna tell you I am. So, honey now take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud. Maybe we found love right where we are.” -Thinking Out Loud, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

It took a little over a week to get an appointment.

Their doctor was a Beta name Tessa Atwood, which Freddie knew was the norm in this sort of job. She was blonde, with a round, friendly face and crooked smile.

As Freddie lay back on the table, she asked, “Comfortable, dear?”

“As I can be,” Freddie said, gripping Roger’s hand tightly. He had to admit it was a little embarrassing to only be wearing a short, paper-thin gown, but what could you do? As she poked and prodded his grip on Roger’s hand tightened- and to his shock, Roger growled.

He looked at his best friend with wide eyes, but Roger seemed equally surprised.

“Er, sorry,” he said to Atwood. “I don’t know what came over me, there. Ignore me.”

But their doctor only smiled, shaking her head. “I’ve seen worse, dear,” she said. “Every Alpha gets more protective during pregnancy, it’s only natural.”

“What’s the worst you’ve ever had?” Freddie asked, suddenly curious.

“Believe it or not, it was actually one young Omega’s older sister. She started accusing me of enjoying...Well, enjoying the examination.” Atwood removed her gloves, doing- well,  _ something  _ with the machines. Freddie didn’t even know what they were  _ called.  _ God, maybe he should have read up on how all this worked, he had no idea what to expect beyond that this would show him his baby. 

“Huh,” Roger said blankly. He grinned at Freddie. “You can’t ever accuse me of being dramatic ever again.”

“Oh, shut up, Roggie.”

“Everything looks good,” Atwood interrupted. She pulled the- computer? Was it a computer? It sure looked like one- towards them. “See this here?” She tapped the screen; all Freddie could see was a black and white blur. It didn’t really look like anything. “See this here, Freddie, dear?”

Freddie nodded.

“That’s your uterus, and this…” a few taps of the keys and the screen zoomed in on a little white thing, shaped like a peanut. “This is your baby, right here.”

It was just a little white dot. A little peanut. It didn’t look anything  _ close  _ to a person...But Freddie felt overawed all the same.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed.

Atwood smiled gently. “Congratulations, boys. I’ll give you two a minute, okay?” 

Freddie didn’t even bother to nod; he just kept staring at the screen.

The door closed behind Atwood, and Roger exhaled shakily.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Fred, that’s our baby.”

_ Our baby. _

It should have scared him. He’d been terrified before. But now he sagged back against Roger, unable to tear his eyes away from that little peanut.

“That’s our baby,” he agreed, still breathless.

Roger slipped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him sideways.

“You’re growing a whole new person,” he said, his voice cracking on a laugh, a stunned, perhaps amazed, laugh. “That’s... _ Holy shit,  _ Freddie.” He quickly pressed a kiss to Freddie’s temple. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Freddie said, and this time he meant it. He didn’t think anything could go wrong right now. He just wanted to keep looking.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian watched as John paced restlessly; first their resident Beta had been sitting watching TV with Brian. Then he’d made lunch. Then he’d cleaned his side of his and Freddie’s room. Then he’d gone to buy more milk. Then he kept switching between sitting on the armchair and sitting next to Brian.

And now he was pacing.

“Deacs, they’ll be okay,” Brian said.

“I know,” Deacy said, but he was still pacing, glancing worriedly at the door every few seconds.

Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed the nearest magazine, trying to ignore the continuous pacing. Honestly, the pacing was making  _ him  _ nervous. He’d been calm enough until Deacy started to worry. Maybe worry really was contagious.

Then, finally, the door opened; Fred and Rog were back.

“Are you okay?” Quick as a flash, Deacy was in front of them, holding onto Freddie’s hands. “You’re okay, right? The baby’s okay?”

“I’m fine,” Freddie laughed. That morning he’d still been quiet and nervous; now he was  _ glowing.  _ Maybe it was the Alpha in Brian, but it was a good look on Freddie, he decided.

“How’d it go?” Brian asked, setting the magazine aside, and joining his pack at the door.

“Little over a month along,” Roger said, confirming what they’d already guessed at. “Atwood- the doctor- she says everything’s looking good. “Should be due next February.” His arm was still around Freddie’s waist, Brian noticed. 

“And look!” Freddie pulled a little photo from his bag, beaming. “Look, that’s the baby!”

“...I can’t see it,” Brian admitted with an awkward grin. Deacy seemed to have zeroed in on it; he was  _ cooing.  _

“See this?” Freddie said, pointing to a little white, wriggly shape. “The little thing that looks like a peanut? That’s it.”

“Oh…” Brian’s smile softened into something genuine, he couldn’t help it. “Wow, I- wow.”

“I know,” Roger said, looking at the photo. He couldn’t seem to look away and something in Brian relaxed. Roger was keeping his cool. Roger was genuinely invested. 

“You’ve got a little peanut,” Deacy teased, but Freddie’s smile only widened.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he murmured sweetly, and Roger pulled him closer.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_“When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, but I'll be there for you when the rain starts to pour. I'll be there for you like I've been there before. I'll be there for you ‘cause you're there for me too.” - I’ll Be There For You, _****The** **Rembrandts**

The thing was, Mary’s friend Gina’s birthday was that weekend. She didn’t want anything crazy, just a party at home...Though typical of their group, what was meant to be a  _ small  _ party quickly got out of hand.

The girls’ flat was  _ packed.  _ It was a relatively large flat, larger than  _ Queen’s  _ actually, but there was still practically no room to move. Even on the balcony people looked squashed.

John knew that Freddie didn’t intend to let anyone outside  _ Queen  _ know of his pregnancy yet. His scent hadn’t changed much; it was a little stronger, but it could be brushed off as him being in heat. He didn’t want to say anything for at least another month.

“It’s meant to be safer after two months,” Freddie explained before they left the flat, and John was determined to honour his friend’s decision. It would be best to just carry on as usual. It would be best to pretend nothing had changed...But he couldn’t stop himself from checking in on Freddie more frequently than usual- in fact, Freddie was usually the one checking in on  _ him.  _

And Veronica, his sweet, clever Veronica, noticed.

“Freddie seems happy about something,” she said, sipping her drink. “Like...Really happy.”

“Oh, who knows?” John said in an attempt to be blase- but Veronica and Mary both squinted at him.

And then came the fateful moment. Tracy practically shoved a glass of beer into Freddie’s hands. Freddie took a long sip, still speaking with Brian and Roger- and he froze, looking horrified with himself. His big brown eyes darted around the room and he must have missed Veronica’s curious stare, because he spat the mouthful of beer back into the glass, shuddering. He wiped his hand across his mouth and poured the beer down the sink.

“Oh!” Veronica gasped, eyes wide. She and Mary stared at each other, and after a moment where John  _ swore  _ they were telepathically communicating, Mary’s mouth dropped open.

“No way,” Mary said.

“No way,” John agreed desperately.

“He’s pregnant, isn’t he?” Veronica hissed gleefully. “Oh my  _ God,  _ that’s so cute! How’d Roger take it? It is Roger’s right? Oh, who am I kidding, of course it is, he can’t sleep with anyone else. Are they together now? Why didn’t you  _ tell  _ me!?” She slapped his arm, not giving him a chance to answer- and to his mounting horror, she ran to Freddie.

“...Damn it,” John muttered with a wince.

“He’s pregnant,” Mary repeated, somewhere between shock and awe. “He’s... _ Are  _ they dating?”

“I...I don’t think so,” John was forced to admit. He frowned into his own beer. “They’re still just friends.”

Mary hummed thoughtfully, frowning at Roger. Freddie shot John a pleading look over Veronica’s head; Roger and Brian looked equally stumped in the face of her rapid questions.

Sighing, John went to them, Mary right at his heels.

“How far along?” Veronica was asking eagerly.

“Only a month,” Freddie said, still looking a little dazed by all the questions.

“Oh, that explains why you’re keeping it quiet,” Veronica said with a nod.

“Ronnie,” John sighed.

“Oh, right, sorry.” She grinned sheepishly, but she still looked excited.

Mary’s smile was more gentle. “You’re okay, Freddie, sweetie?” she asked, pouring him a glass of water.

“I’m fine,” Freddie said, though he gulped the water quickly. “Just...It’s a lot.”

“You’d better be taking good care of him, Rog,” Mary said with mock sternness, waving a finger in the Alpha’s face. Though her eyes were steely, so maybe it wasn’t  _ mocking  _ at all.

“I will,” Roger said; he barely looked at her. His arm was still around Freddie’s waist, as it usually was at these sort of gatherings. They had people to fool after all. But his hand was stretched out, just skimming Freddie’s stomach.

No, they weren’t dating and John knew that.

But...But  _ maybe… _

Maybe he had more questions than he’d initially realised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacy has questions, that's for sure.


	4. Spread Your Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone's happy about the baby...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Family drama? Always. For those of you who've been looking forward to the Bulsaras' reactions, I hope I don't disappoint.
> 
> On the plus side, at least Paul's pissed off.

**EMI Studios, London, July 1974** **   
** ** _“You're the King of The Sleaze, put your money where your mouth is Mister Know-All. Was the fin on your back part of the deal? (Shark!) Death on two legs, you're tearing me apart. Death on two legs, you never had a heart (you never did) of your own (right from the start).” -Death On Two Legs, _ ** **Queen**

Freddie threw up three times that morning; the second he woke up he had to run for the bathroom, then the smell of Brian’s coffee made him sick, then he threw up his breakfast. Sure, he’d expected morning sickness, but this just wasn’t fair.

Add on that they had a meeting with Foster today and his already rubbish mood  _ plummeted.  _ He leaned weakly against Deacy in the back of the van (when Brian had offered him an arm Roger growled, much to Roger’s own embarrassment and Brian’s growing amusement), keeping his eyes shut. They were driving slowly, but he still felt woozy and the passing scenery didn’t help. Best to just shut it all out.

God, he wasn’t looking forward to this. He’d never felt comfortable around Foster or Sheffield for obvious reasons, but ever since that damn nude photoshoot he was constantly on the lookout, alert for their next trick, their next mind game. He knew all too well what they thought of him; they looked at him and saw a toy, not a person, and he was getting more and more worried about what they’d do about his pregnancy. They couldn’t order him to do anything in regards to the pregnancy, but they could make life difficult, he knew that. 

Maybe they’d try humiliate him again. Maybe they’d find an excuse to dock his pay again. 

He was sure Miami would be fine, if not outright happy, with it; Reid might worry about how he could work like this, but otherwise he’d be fine. 

But Foster and Sheffield? If they thought this would cost them money they’d make trouble.

“Okay back there, Fred?” Brian asked.

Freddie could only shake his head, too afraid to open his mouth. He’d managed some toast before they left and he’d like to keep it down, thank you.

“Deacs,” Roger said.

“On it,” was the automatic response; and then there was a cool breeze on his face and he cracked an eye open. Deacy had rolled the back windows down somewhat, still keeping a steady arm around Freddie’s shoulders.

“Nearly there,” Roger said and Freddie nodded again, going through his breathing exercises. Sure, they were for anxiety but he'd found they helped with nausea too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“The baby hates me,” Freddie mumbled, leaning against the van. “That’s why they’re doing this.”

“It’s just hormones, Freddie,” Brian said; Deacy had run ahead into the studio to find a vending machine. Meanwhile, Roger and Brian hovered protectively. 

“Well, the hormones can fuck off,” Freddie said.

Thank God, Deacy came back, practically sprinting, water bottle in hand.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Freddie told him, gladly taking the bottle.

“Slowly,” Roger reminded him. Freddie flipped him off, but did as he was told.

“Morning, boys!”

And there was Reid. And Paul was right behind him.  _ Fabulous. _

“You deal with them,” Freddie grouched; he turned his head away and kept sipping at the water. Roger edged even closer, slipping an arm around Freddie’s hips, already snarling at Prenter.

“Rog, calm down,” Deacy whispered, though of course it did no good. Roger just kept snarling, and Reid laughed, “What’s with you, Roger?” before he stopped dead, only a few steps away.

“Freddie,” he gasped.

“What?” Freddie said, more surly than he meant to sound.

“Well...Congratulations,” Reid said, blinking rapidly and Freddie’s sagged against Roger.

“Sorry for snapping,” he mumbled; thankfully Reid waved a dismissive hand.

“Hormones,” he said dismissively. “I take it this is why it’s been so hard to get hold of any of you?”

“Correct,” Brian said.

As Reid began to ask questions, Freddie dared glance at Paul- and he nearly laughed out of sheer surprise. He’d never seen someone look so appalled before and he’d seen his grandparents’ faces when he went into heat.

“You’re.  _ Pregnant, _ ” Paul hissed through gritted teeth. He’d gone  _ white.  _ For a moment Freddie wondered if he’d pass out. His fists were clenched, his eyes were flashing and he glared at Freddie’s (still flat) stomach like it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. 

Foster and Sheffield scared him; so did Paul sometimes. A lot of the time actually. But Freddie still knew how to stand up to him.

“That’s right,” he said, forcing some brightness into his tone, steadfastly ignoring his still-churning stomach. He’d seen himself in the rearview mirror, and he looked a mess; he was pale and clammy, his hair was tangled...But he still managed to smile. His hand rested on his stomach, partially out of instinct to protect, partially in the hopes that would somehow help the nausea. It seemed to; he felt a little less woozy and dizzy. 

“Yep, he’s pregnant,” Roger said and Freddie had to bite back a laugh again at how  _ smug  _ he sounded. He grinned right at Paul, and Freddie had  _ never  _ seen him smile at Paul before. “Two months along now,” he added sweetly, his hand tightening on Freddie’s hip. Paul was starting to snarl, but Roger’s grin just widened.

Honestly, Freddie was sure that if Paul was on fire, Roger would just sit back and let it happen.

“Everything okay?” Reid checked.

“Just morning sickness,” Freddie said, taking one last gulp of water before closing the bottle. “It’ll pass.”

Reid tutted sympathetically, but Paul just kept glaring. Reid nudged him impatiently, jerking his head at Freddie; Paul took a deep breath before managing a choked “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, dear,” Freddie said

Roger kept his arm around Freddie’s hip as they turned towards the studio and went inside. If anything, as they reached the lift and Reid pressed the button for the fourth floor, he pulled Freddie even closer, shooting a glare at Paul over his shoulder.

“Down boy,” Brian whispered, clearly amused.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Foster clearly _wasn’t_ amused. He took one sniff and his face contorted in an ugly glare.

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped.

“Ray,” Reid said tiredly.

Foster was clearly struggling with his temper. The man had a temper to rival Roger’s; they’d already seen him throw things too many times to count, he yelled at  _ everyone,  _ except those who out-ranked him. The way he spoke to his assistant was disgusting and he was never happy with  _ Queen’s  _ progress for long. No matter how much money they made him, it was never enough in his eyes.

Paul had gone white, but Foster went red.

“You needn't think you’re getting to slack off because of this,” he snapped, clenching his hands together on his desk.

“I won’t need any time off until after they’re born,” Freddie pointed out with forced patience. He was willing to bet whatever paternity leave deal EMI offered would be shit.

“I mean it,” Foster said, voice raising slightly. “No breaks. I don’t want any temper tantrums, or whining; you’re here to  _ work. _ ”

“I know,” Freddie said; Roger was starting to snarl again; even Brian’s teeth were bared.

“Good.” Foster frowned at Freddie’s stomach again, before rolling his eyes at Roger. “Calm down, Taylor, I’m not touching him am I?”

Roger only continued to glare suspiciously and Foster huffed, running a hand through his hair.

“Right then,” he said, apparently calming down. “So long as this doesn’t get in the way of recording and promotional work, we can work with this.”

_ Oh don’t do me any favours,  _ Freddie was tempted to snap. Thankfully, that was when Miami arrived.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was awful,” he said. Freddie watched him, waiting for his reaction as he leaned against Roger. Miami kept babbling about traffic and then suddenly cut off mid-sentence. He stood completely still, sniffing the air. His eyes landed on Freddie.

“Oh!” Suddenly, he looked gentler than Freddie had ever seen him, smiling softly, eyes brightening. “Congratulations, boys. When’s it due?”

“February,” Freddie and Roger said together.

“That’s not too bad then,” Foster cut in.

Roger rolled his eyes; as soon as Foster turned to talk to Reid, Brian mimicked Foster’s facial expressions, contorting his face and mouthing _“Blah, blah, blah.”_ Deacy grinned before he copied him; he scowled, narrowing his eyes and waving his finger mock-disapprovingly, shaking his head.

Freddie pressed his hands over his mouth, desperately trying to bite back a snort; he had to hide his face in Roger’s shoulder.

“Everything okay, Freddie?” Miami asked quietly.

“Oh...Still just a little sick,” Freddie lied. He chanced a glance at his friends; they were both sitting perfectly still and silent as if nothing had happened, though Deacy caught his eye and winked. Smiling, Freddie sat up straight- well, straight enough. He kept his head on Roger’s shoulder.

He only half-listened to the rest of the meeting; they had a photoshoot next week, an interview in a month. 

“He’s all better,” Foster said, nodding at Brian. “So we  _ were  _ going to get you to finish your tour…” He frowned at Freddie’s stomach again. “Maybe you can still do the UK, but…” He gave another impatient huff, as if Freddie was being perfectly ridiculous, as if he’d planned this just to annoy Foster. “Well, circumstances being what they are, we’ll think of something. Meanwhile you’d better start thinking of your next album.”

_ Our last one with you,  _ Freddie thought triumphantly. All four of them were instantly smiling, sitting with more confidence, glancing at each other happily. One more album and they were out of here. 

“We’ll think of something,” Roger said; he was clearly fighting to keep a straight face, to keep the sheer glee out of his voice.

One more album and they were free.

His stomach gave another lurch and he tilted his head back, taking a few deep breaths, both hands on his stomach- and he once more caught Paul’s furious gaze. God, if looks could kill…

But it hit him then; Paul couldn’t accuse them of lying anymore. Freddie was pregnant. Who would ever believe Paul now? Foster and Sheffield already believed wholeheartedly that Freddie and Roger were dating, but Paul had tried to prove, time and time again, that they were lying.

But who’d believe him now? Who’d even listen?

_ “How is  _ this  _ protecting you?”  _ Roger had asked, but to Freddie’s own surprise maybe this  _ did.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Spread your wings and fly away. Fly away, far away. Spread your little wings and fly away; fly away, far away. Pull yourself together ‘cause you know you should do better, that's because you're a free man.” -Spread Your Wings, _ ** **Queen**

Telling his parents was a mess.

He’d called them to tell them he had some news and they invited him over that Saturday. Of course, Roger came with him. Both of them were nervous; Freddie felt sick and this time it wasn’t from morning sickness. He had no idea how they’d react- actually, no, he had an idea. It wouldn’t be anything good.

Kashmira opened the door, took one breath and just stood there gaping.

“Freddie, oh my God,” she gasped. She glanced nervously over her shoulder; he could hear the telly and even from here he could hear his mother pattering about in the kitchen. Quietly, Kashmira slipped onto the front step with them, closing the door gently behind her. “They’re going to kill you!” She looked at Roger and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Listen here, if you think you can just  _ knock up my brother,  _ you can-”

“Kash!” Freddie clapped a hand over her mouth, staring her down. “Excuse you, but I’m the  _ older  _ sibling, in case you forget. Omega or not, I’m a big boy. And no, we’re not engaged, no we’re not dating. Yes, we’re raising it together. That answer all your questions?”

She pushed his hand away, looking a little shamefaced. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Just...Worried I guess.” She bit her lip and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I’m happy for you though, I promise.” All the same, she still frowned at Roger. “But how did this even  _ happen? _ ”

“Well…” Roger was actually going a little pink, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Freddie rolled his eyes, hugging his sister.

“Well, when two adults get drunk sometimes they-”

“I don’t actually want to know!” Kash protested, laughing. But her smile died when she looked back at the house. “Oh, Freddie, they’re not going to like this.”

“I know,” Freddie said, trying to sound confident and failing miserably.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He’d never heard such loud yelling before.

Bomi had taken one look at him and  _ exploded,  _ yelling at him for being so irresponsible, so careless, so dishonourable and so  _ easy-  _ which in turn, set Roger off.

“Lay off him!” Roger yelled, which only turned Bomi’s ire on  _ Roger.  _ They’d been yelling at each other for the last ten minutes- or was it twenty? Freddie had long since lost track of the time. He stood behind Roger, both hands on his stomach, just doing his best to not succumb to the panic attack he could feel building in his chest. His breathing kept hitching unevenly, his hands trembled and his eyes stung. He couldn’t seem to get enough air.

“Papa, stop, you’re frightening him!” Kash finally shouted.

To his shock, that shut Bomi up. Well, it stopped him from yelling, it didn’t stop him from  _ talking. _

“I just can’t believe you, Farrokh!” Bomi said sternly, shaking his head. “I always knew you were wild and unruly, but  _ this?  _ What Alpha will want to marry you now? Where do you think you’ll get in life like  _ this?  _ He won’t even marry you!”

“We’re just friends,” Freddie mumbled, still too shaken to even protest the use of his birth name. 

“That’s exactly the problem! If he cared as you say, he’d do the honourable thing!”

“Oh for  _ God’s sake,  _ would you  _ shut it? _ ” Roger hissed. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s 1974! This is England, not Zanzibar! We don’t marry our kids off the second they’re of age, here!”

Uh oh.

“What did you just say to me?” Bomi voice was dangerously low and quiet, but it didn’t stay that way; he exploded again.  _ _ “You dare lecture me?  _ You!? YOU GOT MY CHILD PREGNANT!  _ We trusted you to look after him! You swore you would! You call getting him in trouble  _ looking after him!? _ ”

“Papa, stop,” Freddie pleaded.

“Be  _ quiet,  _ Farrokh, I don’t want to hear another word out of you! This is disgraceful!”

“You should move back home,” Jer said firmly. “You should stay with us. We can take better care of you than-  _ him.  _ We warned you, didn’t we? You need a  _ nice  _ Alpha, someone that will actually look after you, not- not  _ this. _ ”

“Mama,” Kash said warningly.

“Actually, Mrs. Patel’s son is around your age,” Jer added brightly. “Sanjay, you remember him? He said he likes your band.”

“Are you kidding me?” Freddie’s voice was flat and dead. “Are you actually serious right now?”

“You’ve run wild since you were a child,” Bomi huffed. Roger edged closer to Freddie, reaching back to take his hand. “We were- mistaken with Dazmen, I can admit that. But you clearly can’t be left alone and we can hardly leave you with such careless people. This-  _ hoodlum  _ won’t take responsibility, your other so-called  _ friends  _ didn’t protect you or your honour! For goodness’ sake, child, don’t you  _ see?  _ You need someone to-”

“Keep me in line,” Freddie finished.

“To look after-”

“To beat me into submission,” Freddie said, voice growing louder. He was still shaking, but for an entirely new reason. “To force themselves on me until I push out a bunch of mini-Alphas for them. To show me off like I’m a pretty little doll.”

“Bāḷaka,” Jer began, but Freddie spoke over her, grabbing Roger’s hand.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

“Don’t you dare speak to your mother like-”

_ “I wanted it!”  _ Freddie yelled over Bomi. Both his parents jumped in surprise, but Kash came and stood beside him and Roger. “Okay? You hear that? I wanted it! I wanted him to fuck me, does that shock you? I’m not some innocent little virgin, that ship sailed  _ years  _ ago! Hell, we didn’t even have sex the once, it was at  _ least  _ three times!” He turned to Roger. “Three, right? I’m remembering that right?” he checked. Roger nodded mutely, more shocked than Freddie had ever seen him.

_ “Farrokh Bulsara!” _ Jer gasped, eyes wide. Bomi was openly gaping.

“You heard me,” Freddie said, standing as tall as he could, flipping his hair off the mark on his neck. “And it’s  _ Freddie Mercury,  _ damn it. So there you go, your precious little doll is actually a slut like Bapuji said!”

“You’re not a slut,” Roger said fiercely. 

“Oh, but according to them I am!” Freddie laughed, slightly hysterical now. Maybe it was just hormones. Or maybe it was everything. Maybe it was years and years of hurt, fear, and embarrassment boiling over. He rounded on his parents, eyes blazing. “If you say  _ one more word  _ about marrying me off, I’ll walk out that door and I swear I won’t come back. I won’t answer your calls, I’ll tell my friends to send you away if you come to our flat.  _ I will never see you again  _ and you’ll  _ never  _ see my baby, understand?”

Kash took his other hand, squeezing tightly, while their parents both stared at him in shock. Jer looked seconds away from fainting. Even Bomi looked dazed, like he’d been dealt a nasty blow.

“So are we going to discuss this  _ properly  _ or are you just going to continue to yell until I leave?” Freddie demanded.

Slowly, shakily, Bomi sat down. Jer hovered uncertainly, but she nodded, biting her lip.

“Good,” Freddie said. Roger was still staring at him; Kash was smiling. “Good,” he repeated, a little shakily. 

“When...When are you due?” Jer asked quietly.

“February,” Freddie and Roger said. Kash’s smile widened.

“Well, you...You’d best sit down,” Bomi said, and his voice actually shook. He gestured to the sofa. “Both of you. Far- Freddie, I…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re well?”

“I am,” Freddie said. He sat, Roger still holding his hand.

“...I’m sorry,” Bomi said. “For- for all the shouting when you're in this condition, and…”

“The slut shaming?” Roger said coldly. Freddie tensed again, but Bomi nodded.

“Yes,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Tell us more? Have you been to the doctor yet?”

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Jer murmured, bustling away to the kitchen. Kash sat on the arm of the sofa, hovering close to Freddie.

Freddie held himself tensely for the rest of the visit, but, slowly, he managed to tell them everything with Roger’s help.

Roger didn’t let go of his hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, Freddie nearly collapsed.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just did that,” he breathed, pressing his hands over his mouth, leaning against the van. He felt light-headed, weak kneed; his limbs shook, his hands tingled with sudden pins-and-needles. For a moment he was worried he’d be sick. “Oh, my God, Roggie, I can’t believe I just did that. I  _ yelled  _ at them, I really yelled at them.  _ Fuck,  _ I told them I’ve had sex!”

“You did,” Roger said; his laughter sounded stunned, but he hugged Freddie close anyway. “You did brilliantly, Fred. It’s about time you told them to fuck off.”

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie mumbled into his shoulder.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You stuck up for me,” Freddie explained, holding on tighter.

Roger laughed again, more gently this time. He kissed the top of Freddie’s head.

“Always.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May…** **   
** ** _“Oh, do you know what you got into? Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do? ‘Cause it's about to get rough for you, I'm here for your entertainment. Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet; you thought an angel swept you off your feet. Well, I'm about to turn up the heat. I'm here for your entertainment.” -For Your Entertainment, _ ** **Adam Lambert**

“Fred, you ready to go?” Roger called.

“Just a second!” Freddie peered at himself in the mirror, turning every which way. He was wearing the new shirt Mary had found for him; it was a button-up, in a deep burgundy colour, longer at the back than at the front; the back fell in neat folds nearly to his knees, the front just skimmed past his belt. And it was sheer. That too. More sheer than anything he typically wore off stage. Ugh, maybe his nipples were a bit too obvious in this.

“Freddie!” came Roger’s impatient voice again, and the bedroom door opened.

“Rog!” Freddie protested, but Roger just blinked at him.

“Wow,” he said. “You- you look good.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Freddie glanced in the mirror again. His hair was in its natural state, a mess of waves and curls falling to his shoulders; his eyeliner was perfect if he said so himself, his favourite bangle slid up and down his wrist, and his black leather pants clung to him. All that was fine. It was just the stupid shirt he was worried about.

“It’s not too much?” he asked, and immediately felt ridiculous. He wore much more flamboyant things on stage- but that was on  _ stage,  _ that was a show; that was all part of the performance. He wasn’t performing now. He was heading out with his best friend and he trusted Roger to tell him if he looked stupid or not.

“It suits you,” Roger said, looking him up and down. “Mary’s idea again?”

“You know her, she gets a fashion idea, she immediately wants me to test it out,” Freddie said with a smile. “So...It’s okay then?”

_ “Fred,”  _ Roger laughed. “You’re sexy as hell, okay?” (And why did that make his smile widen?) “Now grab your jacket and let’s get going.”

Roger turned and marched away; as he grabbed his jacket, Freddie glanced in the mirror again. After a moment’s hesitation he undid the top two buttons.

Like Roger was constantly telling him; if you’ve got it, flaunt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨DRAMA!✨  
And oh, look at that, another flashback; we'll be getting a few of them for a while.  
Freddie finally utterly let rip on his parents and really, you can't blame him. Roger's gonna have to find a way to stop Freddie from feeling bad about it.


	5. Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is forced to ask a favour of Foster and Sheffield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild and not very graphic sexual content right at the start; if you wanna skip it ends at the "A Million Dreams" lyrics. I'm practicing, okay? 😅

**May...**   
** _“Every lover known in comparison is a failure, I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now, never be the same now, now. I-I-I see how this is gonna go. Touch me and you'll never be alone. I-Island breeze and lights down low, no one has to know.” -...Ready For It?, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Roger almost felt lightheaded; he just couldn’t seem to get enough air. He had Freddie under him, writhing and gasping and he kept waiting to wake up. Because there was no way this was real. This had to be a dream. 

Freddie sure _ looked _like a dream, cheeks flushed, eyes squeezed shut, hair fanned out around him, gasping for breath. His nails dug into Roger’s arms, groaning when Roger ground his hips down. He still had his jeans on. He should probably do something about that.

“Damn it, Rog, _ hurry up, _” Freddie demanded.

“Hm...No,” Roger said, unable to hold his grin back. He leaned down to bite at the mark on Freddie’s neck again; he’d never seen it so dark before, they’d never done _ this _before and he kept waiting for Freddie to push him off. His hand drifted from Freddie’s hip up to his chest, lightly rolling his nipple between his fingers, beginning to pinch tighter. Freddie’s blush darkened, Roger’s grin widened and slightly hesitantly, he said, “Hey, Fred? Remember what Brimi said? You know, about what perks Omegas have?”

“What?” Freddie looked at him blearily. “You mean the orgasm joke? What about it?”

He admittedly felt like a bit of a perv for asking, but damn it he wanted to know.

“Well- how many times can you cum?”

That startled a laugh out of Freddie.

“I don’t fucking know,” he laughed. “No one’s exactly taken their time with me, darling.”

“Twice?” Roger grinned, hitching Freddie’s legs over his shoulder. “Three times? _ Four? _”

“Rog, I don’t- I don’t fucking _ know, _Christ.” Freddie pressed a hand over his mouth, still giggling. “Most people quit after two; there, you happy now?” His free hand slapped Roger’s arm. “Pervert.”

“Wanna find out?”

Slowly, the giggles died down; Freddie stared at him with big, curious eyes. It seemed to really hit him then, what position he was in; his legs over Roger’s shoulders, Roger looming over him, naked while Roger still had his jeans on. For a long moment, he was quiet. Roger couldn’t read the look on his face; a little shy maybe, but he had that stubborn clench in his jaw that Roger knew so well. His hands cupped Roger’s face, pulling him down to kiss him.

“Okay,” he breathed when they pulled back. He smirked, poking Roger on the nose. “You’ve a reputation, darling. Live up to it.”

  
  
  
  
  


**July...** ** _  
_ ** ** _“Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colours fill my head; a million dreams are keeping me awake. I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see. A million dreams is all it's gonna take, a million dreams for the world we're gonna make.” -A Million Dreams, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

The sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room; Freddie wondered if he’d ever stop being amazed by it. The movies and TV shows always made it sound deafening, but it wasn’t as loud as he’d expected. At first he’d worried that meant something was wrong, but Atwood waved his concerns away.

“It’s strong and steady,” she said reassuringly. “Baby’s doing fine in there.”

He caught Roger sagging in relief at that and Freddie squeezed his hand. 

“Okay, darling?” he asked quietly.

“Okay,” Roger said. “You?”

Freddie smiled. “Perfect.”

  
  
  
  
  


As they made their way back to the van, Freddie took his hand again.

“You didn’t growl this time,” he teased.

“Look at me go,” Roger laughed, swinging their hands. “I’m a fucking _ adult. _ ” But slowly, his smile faded. “Hey, Fred- what do we...I mean, what do we do about _ space? _Our flat isn’t that big as it is, should we- should we try and find somewhere else?”

“What, the two of us?” Freddie asked, stopping. It seemed like such an obvious thing to think about, but it had totally slipped his mind. Where the hell would they put the baby when it was born? It should have been an obvious question. 

Roger’s cheeks were starting to go pink. “Only if you want,” he said quickly. “Our rooms barely fit _ us _and I don’t want to leave the kid in the hallway.”

“Good point,” Freddie said. He smiled softly. “You’re probably right.” Roger _ was _right, he knew; their apartment simply wasn’t big enough for the four of them plus a baby, not to mention all the baby essentials. But one obvious problem remained; “We can’t afford a new flat, darling.”

“Yeah,” Roger sighed. They reached the van; he frowned as he opened it, he frowned as he offered Freddie a hand in and he frowned as he drove. 

At last, he spoke; “Maybe EMI will give us an advance on our money?” he suggested. “We can always pay it back later if that’s what they want.”

“Do you think they’ll listen?” Freddie asked doubtfully.

“Only one way to find out, right?” Roger said, shrugging. “We’ve to go see Foster after the photoshoot tomorrow; I’ll ask then.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Freddie said, but Roger shook his head.

“I’m not having you there if Foster starts screaming,” he said. “Letting you get upset’s not good for the kid.” He kept one hand on the wheel, while the other briefly pat Freddie’s stomach; it was just starting to swell a bit.

It was the one thing that could persuade Freddie to back down.

“At least take _ someone _with you,” he insisted.

“I’ll see if Miami or Reid will come,” Roger said. “Otherwise I’m sure Bri or Deacy will.” He laughed. “Besides, Deacy knows all about accounting and that shit; if they lie to me or try screw me over he’ll know.”

  
  
  
  
  


** _“I'm headed straight for the castle; they wanna make me their queen, and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean. I'm headed straight for the castle. They've got the kingdom locked up, and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut. Straight for the castle.” -Castle, _ ** **Halsey**

The photoshoot had been tense. Mick’s assistants had been insufferable ever since the nude photoshoot in ‘73. Sure, they shut up whenever they thought Roger might hear them, but they always stared at Freddie and if Roger wasn’t in earshot their comments just got more and more degrading.

But this time, as soon as the scent hit, everyone fell silent. No one was stupid enough to push their luck; no one wanted to risk Roger’s wrath, not when “his” Omega was pregnant. 

“Congratulations, guys,” Mick said, though he was blinking rapidly with surprise. “How far along?”

“Two months,” Freddie said. “Nearly three.”

“The press don’t know yet?”

“No.”

Mick nodded. “Alright then. I’ve a few looser shirts if you want?”

That was the thing about Mick, Roger thought; he often acted like Freddie was dimwitted, but then he turned around and actually did something helpful. Roger could never quite figure him out.

Either way, they were _ both _thankful for it. The press wouldn’t be finding out until they couldn’t hide it anymore.

“Places, people!” Mick called to his assistants; the previously gawping Alphas all snapped back to work, finishing the set-up. “Right. All of you to Sophie and Denise for make-up, I’ll have George bring your outfits to the dressing room.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The photoshoot, although tense, went well. Despite the surprised staring from Mick’s assistants it was a million times better than their previous leering. They were, to Roger’s amused surprise, all on their best behaviour. Even that little perv around Deacy’s age, who was usually the most ballsy of the lot, behaved himself. He caught Roger’s eye and ducked his head, barely even _ glancing _at Freddie.

(Roger could get used to it.)

But then came the meeting with Foster.

Really, it went as expected, though Roger was annoyed when Sheffield joined them. As per usual, they ended speaking over _ Queen, _only letting Roger and Brian talk; they barely acknowledged Deacy and spoke over Freddie or outright told him to shut up.

And Sheffield just kept _ staring _at Freddie; it wasn’t the hungry, lustful stare that Prenter gave him. He looked mildly surprised, maybe even a little curious.

“I suppose some congratulations are in order,” he said mildly.

Roger pulled Freddie closer; all four of them exchanged surprised glances.

“Thank you,” Freddie said cautiously.

Sheffield nodded almost respectfully; Roger honestly had to do a double-take. Even Reid looked surprised.

“Well, if we play our cards right you can still do some UK shows,” Sheffield said. “Nothing too taxing; we wouldn’t want to risk your child.”

Seriously, did this guy have a conscience after all, or did he just have a pregnancy kink? Roger didn’t trust him. He knew him too well to blindly thank him and trust him.

As the meeting ended, Roger and Deacy stayed behind. Reid had some business with Elton, so it was down to the two of them to try and persuade Foster and Sheffield to do the unthinkable- to actually do something kind.

“Listen,” Roger said. “I have something to ask you two.”

“We’re listening,” Sheffield said.

“Freddie and I- well, we’re gonna need our own place, what with the baby on the way, but…” Damn it, he hated having to ask them. “Well, we can’t afford it.” _ As they damn well fucking know, screwing us out of our money, not even paying Freddie equally. _“So I was wondering- maybe we could get an advance on our royalties? We can pay it back later if you want.”

“They don’t need _ that _much,” Deacy added; Foster rolled his eyes at him. “Just enough for a down-payment.”

“Hm…” Foster tapped his pen against the desk. Sheffield almost looked bored. They looked at each other and Roger wished he could even _ guess _what they were thinking.

“No,” Sheffield said calmly. “If you want a new home you’ll have to pay for it yourself.”

“We _ will _ pay for it ourselves, we just need-” _ Help. A favour. _ No, he could feel bile rising in his throat at the thought of pleading, of letting them think he and Freddie _ owed _ them. “We just need an advance on our wages. You keep holding back on us, I’m not asking for a loan, I’m asking for my _ wages. _ I’m asking for _ Freddie’s _wages.”

“You heard him,” Foster snapped. “He said no- and before you think of throwing a tantrum, Taylor, he _ owns _ this record company, so _ zip it. _ Reid and _ ‘Miami’ _can’t help either, so don’t bother.”

“But-”

_ “No.” _

“Two months along now, isn’t he?” Sheffield asked with that infuriating poise.

“Yes. Why?” Roger asked suspiciously. Deacy bristled, glaring at Sheffield.

“Just wondering,” Sheffield said. “Ray here wasn’t too sure when he told me.”

Roger would be lying if he said it didn’t make him uneasy; he had to hold back a shudder at the idea of _ these two _ discussing Freddie’s pregnancy, discussing his _ baby. _

He’d trust them when hell froze over.

“Off you go now,” Foster said with his usual sneer. He waved them towards the door. “The answer is _ no. _”

“Sorry boys,” Sheffield said, smiling.

Roger growled before he could stop himself and Deacy grabbed his arm, tugging him away.

“Come on, Rog, let’s go,” he muttered. “We can call Miami when we get home.”

But as they headed towards the lift, Roger remembered that Foster said Miami couldn’t help. 

Still, it was a chance Roger was willing to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, what is Sheffield up to?


	6. Waiting For Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's hormones make themselves felt. Roger and Miami take a stand; meanwhile, Freddie and Roger get a nice surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what Sheffield and Foster are up to, shall we?

**August, 1974** **  
** ** _“I've been waiting for a good time, waiting for the right time, trying to tell you- look what you made me do! It's freezing in the morning, and I'm so bored of boring, waiting ‘round for you. But look what you made me do!” -Look What You Made Me Do, _ ** **Emma Blackery**

As the pregnancy progressed it seemed like everything hit at once. If Freddie wasn’t puking his guts out, he was lying in bed with no energy. If he was up and about his back and legs practically incapacitated him. His stomach was swelling faster than he’d have thought possible; he wasn’t sure he could hide it from the press anymore; he was starting to look further along than three months. And then, to top it all off, his heat hit.

That was another thing Freddie hated about heats, he decided. They didn’t quite stop during pregnancy. Instead of a monthly problem they became a tri-monthly problem. He’d hoped, with his irregular heats, that he might only get one or maybe none at all.

No such luck. His head throbbed, no matter how much water he drank he still felt thirsty; his back ached, his legs ached and after lunch his stomach started churning. He’d only had some soup and a sandwich but it suddenly became a real struggle to keep it down.

And yet, just his luck…

“Oh, he’s cute,” Freddie said; they were gathered together in the living room, searching in vain for a good programme. 

“The weather man?” Brian said, raising his eyebrows. “He’s a bit...old, Fred.”

“And bald,” Deacy added.

“He looks a bit like the guy from ‘_ Aristocats,’ _” Roger laughed.

“...Yeah,” Freddie sighed, slumping in his seat. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s with me lately.”

“Well, it’s your third month,” Brian said. He avoided eye-contact, quickly switching through the channels. “And according to those baby books you’re going to be a little- wound up…”

“You can horny, darling, we’re all adults here.”

Deacy snorted, Roger wheezed and poor Brimi went bright pink.

“Yeah,” he said. “That.”

“Right,” Freddie said. He struggled to get comfortable as the pain in his back grew. “Oh fuck this, I’m having a bath.” He hauled himself to his feet, waving away Roger’s hand and stomped off to the bathroom.

  
  
  
  
  


His discomfort only seemed to grow; the next day he made the mistake of trying to wear his favourite flared pants, only to find that, of course, they didn’t fit anymore.

He burst into tears.

Deacy must have had a sixth sense, became he came barrelling into their room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked frantically. “Are you hurt? Is it the baby?”

“I’m _ fat! _” Freddie wailed. Call him vain, but he’d always been the smallest of the four, the lightest, the “lithe” one as the tabloids put it. And now he was the fattest.

“Oh, Fred.” Deacy hugged him, swaying them both back and forth. “You’re not fat, mate, you’re _ pregnant. _ You’re growing a _ person. _”

“I’m fat and it’s Roger’s fault,” Freddie mumbled. Deacy chuckled, running a hand up and down his back.

“Hm, yeah, that’s on Roger,” he agreed. “Here’s an idea; you throw your joggers on and I’ll make some tea, yeah? Think you can handle some lunch?”

“Tea please,” Freddie said, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry, love.”

“Eh, it’s Roger’s fault,” Deacy said, laughing.

Damn right it was Roger’s fault.

  
  
  
  
  


Brian wasn’t sure what he expected when he got home, but Freddie yelling, “I’m fat and it’s your fault!” at Roger sure wasn’t it. Freddie threw a sofa cushion at Roger’s head; luckily Roger ducked and they were both left gaping at the angry, red-faced Omega.

“Fred,” Roger began warily.

“Shut it, Roger. I’m fat, I’m sore, I’m sick, I’m horny, I keep crying at every little thing and that’s all on you! I can’t fit in my favourite clothes anymore, you prick! I know I said my ass was too small before, but this is _ ridiculous! _”

Brian bit his lip to keep from laughing. _ It’s not funny, _ he told himself sternly. _ Freddie’s serious; he’s upset, don’t laugh. _

Roger was gaping wordlessly. Deacy, still sitting on the sofa and sipping some tea, looked all too happy with how things were going.

“I...I can take you shopping?” Roger offered weakly.

Brian expected another explosion. Instead, Freddie instantly brightened.

“Okay!” he chirped. “I’ll grab my shoes.”

“What, _ now? _”

“Yes, now,” Freddie snapped, hands on hips. _ Huh, _ Brian realised. It wasn’t just Freddie’s stomach, his hips _ did _look bigger.

And he tried not to look, really he did, but Freddie’s butt _ had _grown.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed; Roger was outright _ staring, _even poking his head around the corner to keep looking.

_ “Just friends,” _Brian snorted. He went to the kitchen, setting the groceries down.

“We are,” Roger said; he was still staring after Freddie. 

“We’re friends, Rog, but I don’t stare at your ass.”

“Shush!” Roger hissed as Freddie came back. “Ready, Freddie?”

“Yep.” Freddie marched ahead to the front door; Deacy was clearly biting back laughter. “Move it, Blondie.”

The door closed behind them and Brian looked at Deacy.

“Just friends,” he repeated.

“They’re hopeless,” Deacy sighed. “Absolutely hopeless.”

  
  
  
  
  


** _“You took me for everything that I had and kicked me out on my own. Are you happy, are you satisfied? How long can you stand the heat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat. (Look out!) Another one bites the dust.” -Another One Bites The Dust, _ ** **Queen**

Sheffield and Foster hadn’t lied; Miami hadn’t been able to help. He’d accompanied Roger and Deacy to EMI to plead their case, but the executives hadn’t budged.

“We’re not under any legal obligation to give them an advance on their wages,” Sheffield pointed out. 

They’d refused to budge, so of course Roger was suspicious when Sheffield rang him, asking him to come into the office that evening. Just him. No Freddie, Brian or Deacy.

“Of course,” Roger said; his voice came out calm enough, but his heart was pounding. As soon as Sheffield hung up, he called Miami.

“I need you to meet me at EMI in half an hour,” Roger told him. 

“What’s wrong?” Miami asked.

“Sheffield wants to meet me- _ just _me, he said to leave the boys out of it. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t like it.”

“I’ll be there,” Miami promised.

Roger hung up, biting his lip. Brian was in the shower, Deacy was out with Veronica and Freddie had gone to lie down and rest. He _ could _just slip out, but...No, that wouldn’t be fair.

He went to Freddie and Deacy’s room.

“Fred?” He opened the door; Freddie was lying on his side, one hand on his stomach, playing a _ Beatles _album on low-volume. “Freddie, I’m heading to EMI, okay?”

“What? Why?” Freddie sat up; he still looked pale and peaky. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Roger admitted. He crossed the room and pushed Freddie’s hair off his forehead, quickly kissing his forehead. “You know Foster and Sheffield, they’ll find anything to bitch about. I don’t think I’ll be too long, okay?”

“Do you want me to come?” Freddie asked. He tried to push himself up off the bed, but Roger gently pushed him back down.

“Nuh-uh, you rest,” he said. “Miami will be there, it’s fine.”

“...Okay.”

Roger couldn’t blame Freddie for looking so wary; god knew he was nervous.

  
  
  
  
  


Miami was already there and waiting for him.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said, but Roger _ wasn’t _ so sure. Sheffield had been weirdly _ nice _ lately, whereas Foster had only sneered more and more. _ Something _was going on.

“Mr Taylor,” the receptionist said brightly. “Mr Sheffield’s expecting you in his office.” She eyed Miami warily.

“Don’t worry, they’re looking for him too,” Roger lied. The receptionist nodded and waved them along.

“Why would he want to talk _ just _to me?” Roger asked, as the lift carried them to the top floor.

“I don’t know,” Miami admitted and he didn’t sound happy about it. “But whatever they’re trying to pull this time, I’m with you.”

It helped a bit. Not a lot, not enough to calm him down, but it helped.

  
  
  
  
  


“Ah, Roger,” Sheffield said with an icy smile- an icy smile that dropped when Miami followed him in. “I believe I said I wanted to speak to _ you. _”

“You said not to bring Freddie, Brian or Deacy,” Roger reminded him with forced cheer. He flung himself into one of the armchairs, legs spread, arms thrown over the back of the chair. Freddie wasn’t the only one that could summon a mask; he put on the cocky face he used for the press, the _ I’m invincible _attitude he used for their shows and watched Sheffield’s jaw twitch. Foster, in the seat across from Roger, was already going red with anger. Miami came and stood behind Roger, radiating calm.

“Rather impromptu meeting,” Miami said calmly. “What’s all this about?”

“...Right.” Sheffield seemed to shake himself out of his annoyance; his business smile was back in place, his eyes almost seemed to say _ You can trust me. _Bullshit. Roger didn’t trust him at all.

“It’s about your request,” Sheffield said. “For the down-payment.”

“Yeah?” Roger sat up a little straighter, sure that Sheffield was about to find an excuse to withhold their wages entirely, or dock them.

“We might be able to help,” Sheffield said and Roger exchanged startled looks with Miami. “Providing you do us a favour.”

“...What favour?”

“It’s about Freddie- well, about the pregnancy. You haven’t announced it yet, correct?”

“That’s right,” Roger said. Right now their announcement plan boiled down to _ Let the bastards figure it out themselves. _They’d had an interview before their photoshoot last month, but Freddie had been too ill to attend; Brian, Roger and Deacy hadn’t seen any reason to say anything beyond “Bad flu.”

“Well, here’s the deal,” Sheffield said. “We’ll give you the money and in turn _ we _handle the announcement. Deal?”

His gut instinct was to say “Sure!” because- really? That was all?

But this was EMI. This was Ray Foster and Norman Sheffield. 

And Roger Taylor was no idiot.

“Handle it how?” Miami asked. Foster shot Miami a look of disgust, Sheffield pressed his lips together but stayed stubbornly smiling.

“A photoshoot,” he said. “Freddie’s popular; imagine how many fans will be happy for you. Maternity- or in this case, paternity- photoshoots have proven very popular in the past.”

“...What _ kind _of photoshoot?” Roger demanded with narrowed eyes.

“I just said-”

_ “What kind?” _

“Mick’s expressed interest in another nude one,” Foster said. “I still don’t understand _ why, _he’s not much to look at.”

“That’s my fucking _ boyfriend- _”

“Ray misspoke,” Sheffield said, holding his hand up to silence him. “Isn’t that right, Ray? He didn’t mean to offend you, Roger.”

“...That’s right,” Foster said, gritting his teeth. He sounded like those two small words physically pained him.

“You want to hurt him again,” Roger said. “No. No way.”

“Be reasonable. Our Freddie’s quite the sex symbol- and it’s only natural that your fans will want to celebrate with you. Imagine the sales! The royalties would be more than enough for a down-payment, Roger, be reasonable. Your sales shot up overnight last time.”

Roger’s hands were shaking. He’d remember that photoshoot until the day he died. He’d remember the taunts, the harassment; he’d remember how Freddie had been near tears the whole time, he’d remember the panic attacks leading up to that ‘shoot, he’d remember how quiet and withdrawn Freddie had been; he’d_ always _ remember how _ triumphant _Sheffield and Foster had been afterwards. He’d always remember how Freddie was forced to act repentant, how he’d acted more like a doll than a person until Sheffield and Foster were satisfied. He’d never forget the hungry, lustful stares; he’d always remember how an entire room of Alphas had stared at Freddie, naked and teary-eyed on the floor, how almost every one of them tried to put their hands on him; he’d always remember Prenter’s possessive leer.

“Absolutely fucking _ not, _” he snarled. “Not happening. You’re not doing that to him again, I won’t let you.”

Just like that, Sheffield’s expression closed off. He was back to looking completely unapproachable.

Foster meanwhile, laughed.

“I think you’ll find you’ve no say,” he said. “Handle the announcement however you want, but we’ll still arrange the ‘shoot. Your loss, Taylor. He’s ours to do with as we please, he signed that contract of his own free will.”

“I think you’ll find that clause only covers _ single _Omegas,” Miami said coldly. Roger twisted around to look at him; their lawyer looked calm and composed, but Roger could see his fists were clenched behind his back. “Freddie’s isn’t single, as you well know. Roger’s his Alpha- and if Roger says no to anything to do with Freddie, you can’t move ahead.”

“I beg your pardon, Jim?” Sheffield hissed.

“Feel free to check your own contract,” Miami said with a humourless smile. “But I memorised the wording. You can’t _ make _Freddie do anything his Alpha had expressly said no to.”

That was the loophole; last time, they hadn’t asked Roger’s permission. Last time, they’d kept him in the dark until the whole thing was arranged, until Mick had been paid in advance; they’d waited until Roger couldn’t do anything to stop them. _ Because they hadn’t asked. _ This time, they went straight to him; this time, they thought they had something over him.

But they didn’t. Because Roger would rather die than put Freddie through that again for _ any _reason.

“And you can’t make Freddie do anything in regards to our baby,” Roger said with a triumphant grin. “Because that’s nothing to do with you, it’s nothing to do with our image. It’s our _ private _business.”

“It’d be in your best interests to comply, Roger,” Sheffield hissed.

“No,” Roger repeated. His eyes flashed, he was snarling before he could stop himself, growling under his breath, because he _ knew _Sheffield, he knew what he was like. 

“I know why you want him naked,” Roger snapped. “And it’s nothing to do with money.” 

Well, not _ entirely _to do with money. 

Because Sheffield had made inappropriate comments and innuendos the moment he’d met Freddie- but he was careful. He always did it when Roger couldn’t hear him.

“Watch yourself, boy,” Foster snapped.

“Roger,” Miami said quietly.

But Roger barely heard them; he and Sheffield were locked in a staredown, both of them snarling.

“I don’t give you permission,” Roger stated clearly, deliberately. “You’re not in charge of the announcement and Freddie won’t be doing _ any _ nude photoshoots. You leave our baby _ out _of your little power plays, do I make myself clear?”

“...Crystal,” Sheffield said. He was actually shaking with anger.

Foster was less controlled.

“You ungrateful little bastard!” Foster yelled. “We didn’t have to take you on! Who _ would _with an Omega frontman!? You should be down on bended knee thanking us!”

“Ray,” Sheffield said warningly. 

“So he has to take his clothes off, _ so what? _It’s not as if he hasn’t before, or do you expect us to believe the stork knocked him up?”

_ “Ray!” _

Roger jumped in shock; he’d never heard Sheffield shout before.

He took a deep breath and spoke; “It’s not happening- and don’t try go behind my back. Like Miami said, it’s _ illegal. _ He’s _ mine, _ not _ yours. _ There’s no ‘our Freddie’ in this, he’s _ mine. _And I’m saying no.”

Miami had a hand on his shoulder, but Roger shrugged him off, standing up.

“My answer is no,” he said firmly. “My answer is _ never. _” He turned to Miami. “Let’s go.”

To his surprise, Miami spoke; “If you go behind his back and try to make Freddie follow your demands, he’s well within his rights to go public about this. And whose side do you think the public will be on? You underestimate Freddie because he’s an Omega, but people _ love _him. Sure, Norman Sheffield and Ray Foster are big names in the music industry, but to the average person?” He shrugged, looking them over coldly. “Not so much. Say the name Freddie Mercury on the other hand...and people listen. If they think you’re abusing him they’d never stand for it.”

_ “Abuse?” _Foster sputtered. “It’s not abuse!”

“It will be if you ignore Roger’s decision,” Miami pointed out calmly and Roger smirked.

“I think that’s everything covered,” he said. “Now leave Freddie and our baby _ alone. _”

And he swept out, ignoring Sheffield calling his name.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“She's talking to angels, counting the stars, making a wish on a passing car. She's dancing with strangers, falling apart, waiting for Superman to pick her up in his arms, yeah. In his arms, yeah. Waiting for Superman.” -Waiting For Superman, _ ** **Daughtry**

“Don’t say a word to Freddie,” Roger said as soon as they were outside. “I mean it, Miami, not one word.”

Miami looked at him sadly, but he nodded. “My lips are sealed,” he promised.

Roger ran a hand through his hair, rooting in his pockets for a cigarette.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” he said tiredly. He found a cigarette, lit in and took a deep drag. He could feel his shoulders instantly relaxing. “Like- I really wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

“Neither am I,” Miami said. “How’s Freddie?”

“Hormonal,” Roger said, smiling despite it all. “He made me take him shopping, says it’s my fault he’s fat.”

“Well…” Miami trailed off with a teasing smile.

“Oh fuck off, not you too,” Roger laughed. He shook his head, leaning against the wall. “I just wish they’d leave him alone.”

“Me too,” Miami said. “But think about it: you’ve just one more album before your contract is up.”

“The sooner the better.”

  
  
  
  
  


What he didn’t expect when he got home, was to find Freddie asleep on the sofa. The TV was still playing and there was no sign of Brian and Deacy.

And just like that, all the rage and tension melted away.

The fluffy woolen throw was pulled up over him as a blanket, right up to his nose; he was curled up as small as he could.

Finally relaxed, finally genuinely smiling, Roger tip-toed over.

“Freddie?” He pushed Freddie’s hair off his face. “Fred, wake up.”

“Hng? Roggie?” Freddie’s eyes cracked open; he pushed himself up, smiling sleepily. “How’d it go? What did they want?”

“Just nagging me to make sure you keep working,” he lied. “Accused us of slacking off, the usual bullshit.”

Freddie rolled his eyes, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Let me guess- _ morning sickness is no excuse? _”

“Got it in one,” Roger said, his smile feeling slightly more forced. He hated lying to him, but damned if he was going to tell the truth about this; damned if he was going to risk Freddie and the baby’s health.

“I think they need hobbies,” Freddie said, rubbing a hand on his stomach. “Or to get shagged. Maybe they just have a serious case of blue balls, darling.”

“_ Christ, _Freddie, the last thing I need to think about is Sheffield or Foster getting it on!” Roger laughed. He sat on the edge of the sofa, tucking an arm around Freddie, resting his cheek on Freddie’s head; his free hand joined Freddie’s on the baby bump. “Feeling any better?”

“Still sore,” Freddie admitted. His smile had an embarrassed edge to it. “Sorry for all the yelling.”

“Eh, I figure a few tantrums are allowed,” Roger teased. “You haven’t even threatened to chop my dick off yet.”

“Don’t give me ideas, darling.”

That was when he felt it; a little nudge against his hand.

Startled, he sat up straight and saw the same shock on Freddie’s face.

“Was that-?”

“I think so.”

And there it was again, that little nudge against his hand.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Their baby was kicking; that was their baby, he could feel it against his hand. _ Holy shit _was an understatement. Awe didn’t even begin to cover it.

_ I’ll never let them hurt you, _ he thought fiercely. _ Never. _

Freddie laughed shakily; his eyes looked suspiciously wet.

“Hi, Peanut,” Roger said. “Take it you don’t like Foster and Sheffield either, hm?”

“Good taste,” Freddie said, smiling. Despite his obvious fatigue, he was glowing.

  
It just hardened Roger’s resolve and he repeated the old promise to himself, again and again: _ Protect Freddie. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No flashbacks this time as it ended up being longer than anticipated; the flashbacks have been moved to the next chapter. But hey-ho, Roger stood up to Sheffield and Foster!
> 
> Some lore: Omegas still get their heats during pregnancy (every three months instead of every month) and Alphas still get their ruts every TWO months during pregnancy.


	7. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winifred Taylor meets the Bulsaras. Freddie and Roger come to an understanding, but a storm is brewing on the horizon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there's some sexy times starting at the "Do I Wanna Know?" lyrics and ending at the "No Light, No Light" lyrics if you wanna skip that.  
(That said, I didn't keep hesitating and feeling awkward as I wrote it this time. It's either practice paying off, or listening to that particular song helps 😆)

** _“Keep your feet on the ground when your head’s in the clouds. Well go get your shovel, and we’ll dig a deep hole to bury the castle. Bury the castle. Go get your shovel, and we’ll dig a deep hole to bury the castle, bury the castle.” -Brick By Boring Brick, _ ** **Paramore**

When Freddie woke up his cat was fast asleep on his stomach. Ziggy was a fat, orange and white tabby cat who tended to ignore everyone else by Freddie. He was usually quite cuddly, but as Freddie’s bump became more obvious the cat became outright clingy- he’d spent five minutes  _ howling  _ when Freddie was in the bath yesterday until Brian managed to coax him away with treats.

Considering how warm and fluffy Ziggy was, this was actually quite welcome.

And considering today’s plans he definitely needed his cat to cuddle.

Winifred Taylor was coming over. No big deal, she was always lovely. But his parents and Kashmira were coming over too and  _ that  _ was what made him nervous. He wasn’t sure he trusted  _ anyone  _ to keep their temper.

There was a knock on the door and Roger poked his head in.

“Fred? Breakfast’s ready.”

Truth be told he didn’t have much of an appetite. Combine morning sickness with his general anxiety about today and he  _ knew  _ he’d just throw it all back up.

But he had a baby to feed and a tiny kick drove that point home. Ignoring Ziggy’s rather indignant  _ meow,  _ Freddie lifted the cat up and followed Roger to the kitchen.

(He was right; barely twenty minutes later he was stuck in the bathroom getting sick.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


John had only met the Bulsaras a handful of times and he tried not to judge, really he did, but all he could think was  _ Seventeen, Freddie was seventeen and you tried to marry him to a stranger, you tried to pack him off to India again.  _

But Freddie seemed to have forgiven them- or at the very least, he was trying to. And it was Freddie they had hurt, Freddie they treated like an idiot for years, Freddie they had ignored, Freddie they had  _ locked away  _ during his first heat...He’d better stop that train of thought before he worked himself up. The point was, Freddie was trying to get along with them, so John would to.

He liked Kashmira at least. She was sweet with a similar sense of humour to Freddie- and she was just a kid herself. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

All the same, John was glad that Winifred arrived first; there was never any awkward silences with her around. (And sue him, it was nice to have another Beta around sometimes.) She all but skipped into their flat in a long floral print dress, beaming at them all.

“Rog!” She held her arms out and Roger literally ran across the room to her, hugging her tightly. “How’ve you been keeping, love? Still no help from EMI?”

“No,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “But what else is new?”

She nodded and tutted sympathetically, but then she spotted Freddie, sitting on the sofa, and her eyes lit up.

“Oh, sweetie,  _ look  _ at you!” she cooed. In the blink of an eye she was next to Freddie, squeezing his hand. “You look further along than three months, Freddie.”

“I know,” Freddie said with a wry smile. He pulled a face at his bump; Ziggy nuzzled it curiously.

Winifred hugged him, though she was careful not to crush the baby bump. “Any news on the gender yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Freddie said. “But our next scan is tomorrow, so...Fingers crossed.”

“Well, you’re glowing, sweetie,” she said with an approving smile. She turned and waved her finger at Roger. “And  _ you-  _ you said you were just friends!”

“We are!” Roger protested- though John couldn’t help but smirk at Roger’s pink cheeks, he couldn’t help but be amused when Freddie ducked his head.

“Hmm…” Winifred shook her head. “You’d better be looking after him, Roger.”

“I  _ am,  _ Mum.”

Smirking, Winifred caught John’s eye and winked; Brian hid his grin behind his hand. But then, almost shyly, Winifred turned back to Freddie, her hand hovering uncertainly over his stomach.

“Rog says the little one’s kicking,” she said. “Can I…?”

Freddie nodded and her face just  _ lit up.  _ The poor woman looked like she was going to cry as her hand rested on the bump, and John could tell when the baby kicked because she let out a watery little giggle.

“I’m going to spoil you rotten,” she promised the baby. 

Clearly the universe didn’t believe in giving any of them a break, because a knock on the door announced the arrival of the Bulsaras.

John looked at Brian and rolled his eyes before he could stop himself; Brian however, nodded in sympathy.

Kashmira was fine. He liked her a lot. Jer was...okay. She had her moments, she seemed to be learning and John could actually have a conversation with her.

But Bomi? John still didn’t feel comfortable with him around.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was awkward, but you didn’t need Brian’s genius intellect to see that coming.

Roger watched his mother, Jer and Bomi and just-  _ marvelled.  _ Winifred knew how Freddie ended up in England, but unlike Roger she kept her cool. Looking at her, you’d never guess she’d been told  _ anything  _ about them. She smiled sweetly, chatting earnestly about doctor appointments, and baby furniture and how her boss was just so patronizing. 

Surprisingly, she and Jer had something in common: they were both Betas who’d married Alphas. They’d both been sneered at for “reaching above their station” by society.

That broke the ice between the two mothers at least; Roger could see genuine sympathy in his mum’s eyes. Her smile only grew as she asked Kash about school, nodding along with her answers, reminiscing about her own school days- but whenever she spoke to Bomi, Roger saw her eyes dim, saw her smile fade ever-so-slightly. He doubted anyone else noticed; the only reason he  _ did  _ was because he’d grown up with her.

“Oh, and Freddie’s such a sweetheart, he always offers to help out at dinner when he visits,” Winifred said brightly.

Jer blinked in surprise. “You learned how to cook properly, baby?” she asked Freddie.

Freddie shook his head, only picking at his lunch; laughing, Winifred tucked a strand of his hair off his face.

“Stop hiding that lovely face, sweetie,” she chided gently. “No, Jer, as far as I know he doesn’t cook much- he and Rog  _ both-  _ I just mean he always helps make the tea or offers to carry the plates, set the table up, that sort of thing.” She turned to Roger and raised an eyebrow. “Unlike  _ this  _ one,” she added pointedly.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Brian whispered, grinning.

“Thanks, Mum,” Roger said flatly.

“You okay, Freddie?” Kash asked, reaching across the table for her brother’s hand. He looked clammy; he’d barely said a word and Roger had put that down to anxiety, but the way Freddie had a hand pressed to his mouth told him otherwise.

He shook his head, mumbled something like an apology and fled the room; the bathroom door slammed shut behind him, but Roger could still hear him getting sick again.

“Shit,” he said, pushing himself to his feet; Jer had also shot to her feet, but Roger raced past her.

“Freddie!” he called. He tried the door and growled when he realised Freddie had locked it behind him. “Fred, come on, open up.”

“Go...Away…” Freddie panted. 

“Freddie,  _ please. _ ” Call him paranoid, but he hated that the door was locked; he knew it was just morning sickness (though maybe he should just call it all-day-sickness at this point), but he couldn’t stop his mind from conjuring the worst possible outcomes- namely Freddie passing out and hitting his head, which he  _ knew  _ wasn’t going to happen, but  _ still.  _ Damn it, stupid Alpha hormones; they just stressed him out even more.

“Freddie?” Jer appeared behind him and knocked tentatively at the door. “Your friend Brian says there’s medicine for you in the kitchen, darling. Please come out.”

“I’m fine,” Freddie said weakly, but he gagged again and Roger felt surprisingly helpless. Atwood said the new tablets would stop Freddie from being sick during the day or at night, but they hadn’t worked at all.

“You’re clearly not!” Roger protested; Jer nodded in agreement even though Freddie couldn’t see her. “Fred, just let us in.”

Finally, the lock clicked and Roger forced himself to open the door slowly, rather than slam it.

Freddie was sitting on the edge of the bath, pale and shaking and sweating. Roger was over there in two quick strides, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands.

“Oh, my darling,” Jer murmured, hurrying right after him. “Was it the food? I thought you said you were on new tablets.”

“They’re clearly not working,” Freddie mumbled with an annoyed edge to his voice. He almost immediately winced, ducking his head even further. “Sorry, Mama,” he added.

“It’s fine,” she said gently. Hesitantly, she ran a hand through his hair; when he didn’t flinch or move away she relaxed, sitting on the edge of the bath and wrapping an arm around him, still stroking his hair. “My poor little love,” she said. “Growing a baby’s hard work.”

Roger looked at her and for once, as Freddie leaned against her and closed his eyes, he didn’t want to yell at her; for once he didn’t want to take her to task for everything she did and everything she didn’t do. For once, he relaxed in her presence. 

And for the first time in a long while, Freddie did too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it's done.. I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words...How wonderful life is while you're in the world.” -Your Song, _ ** **Elton John**

Atwood listened carefully to Freddie’s list of continued symptoms; the ever-growing cramps, the persistent sickness that lasted all day and well into the night, as well as headaches and migraines, and fatigue. 

“If they’re still persisting we’ll have to try a new pill,” she said worriedly. “I’m sorry, dear, I really thought that last one would fix it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Freddie said tiredly, biting back a yawn.

“It’s not yours either,” Atwood said firmly. “I know that face, plenty of new parents get it. You’re not doing anything wrong, dear; some people just have a rougher time of it than others.”

After that was the scan; as always, Freddie held Roger’s hand tightly, trying to ignore the twinge of embarrassment as Atwood slipped a finger into him, prodding around. Roger squeezed his hand tightly, snarling, clearly struggling with himself. He’d been fine last time, but the weaker Freddie felt the more protective Roger got. He’d taken to glaring at Brian again whenever he offered help (though he was quick to apologise for doing so).

“Okay, everything looks good,” Atwood said. “Any pain, dear?”

“It’s probably the only place I’m  _ not  _ in pain, darling,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. Atwood huffed in amusement, fiddling around with those damnable machines. And just like that, the black and white scan was on the screen.

Whatever Atwood saw made her nod to herself and smile- and Freddie’s heart seemed to skip a beat when she turned to them and said, “We can tell the gender now if you’d like to know?”

Freddie tilted his head up to Roger; Roger smiled down at him and nodded, so Freddie turned back to Atwood and said, “We want to know.”

Her smile widened.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, Roger held his arms out to Freddie; laughing, Freddie flung himself into them, laughing all the more as Roger picked him up and spun him around.

“Holy shit!” Roger laughed. “Holy fucking shit!”

“I know!” Freddie clung to him, absolutely giddy. His head was pounding but what did that matter when they  _ knew?  _ Roger was grinning at him, eyes shining, hair gleaming gold in the sunlight and before Freddie could even think about stopping himself, he kissed him.

He immediately pulled back, mortified.

“Oh shit, darling, sorry,” he babbled. “I just- I mean I...I forgot the signal, sorry, I…” Roger was just  _ looking  _ at him. He expected Roger to put him down, or brush it off like nothing...But instead he smiled, pulling Freddie back down to kiss him; it wasn’t a quick peck. It was long, slow and deep, and Freddie could practically  _ feel  _ the surprised gazes of other passers-by on them. An old lady muttered “How unseemly!” as she ushered a younger, heavily pregnant woman into the hospital. Fuck them all. What did Freddie care?

“We’re talking about this, right?” he gasped as he pulled back, unable to catch his breath. He could already feel his face heating up. He’d like to blame that on hormones too.

“We are,” Roger agreed. Slowly, he set Freddie down, though he kept his arms around his waist, bending down to press his nose against the mark on Freddie’s neck, breathing deeply. 

“Do we tell Brian and Deacy about the baby?” Freddie asked; Roger pulled back and his grin was outright evil.

“I’m thinking we leave them hanging for a while,” he said. 

For a moment he wanted to protest, but he thought of Brian and Deacy constantly  _ pestering  _ them and damn it, but if this worked out the way Freddie wanted it to then they’d be so unbearably  _ smug. _

Maybe they deserved to be kept waiting.

He smirked, hugging Roger and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Sounds good to me, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May...** ** _   
_ ** ** _“Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go; was sorta hoping that you’d stay. Baby, we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow-day. Crawling back to you. Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do. Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.” -Do I Wanna Know?, _ ** **Arctic Monkeys **

If Freddie stopped to really think about it, he’d admit that he expected this to be over with pretty fast. For all Roger’s teasing, he expected them to fuck once and go to sleep.

Evidently Roger was serious.

He’d finally kicked his jeans and underwear off, as flushed as Freddie and shaking with aftershocks. Freddie’s cramped bed really wasn’t the ideal place for this; Roger couldn’t even lie down properly, he had to sprawl half on top of Freddie, his face pressed against Freddie’s neck. Speaking of, the mark was  _ throbbing,  _ and he shivered as Roger ran a curious finger over it. He knew marks were meant to be sensitive (not as much as bond marks, but close enough), but it had never felt  _ this  _ sensitive.

Then again, Roger had never put in such an effort to marking him.

Then again, they’d never slept together before.

_ Christ,  _ that had really just happened. He wanted a moment to wrap his mind around it, to just  _ think  _ about. He half-expected Roger to stumble off to the shower and that would be that.

He jerked in surprise when Roger slipped a finger back into him.

“Rog-  _ oh! _ ”

His nails dug into Roger’s arm; at Roger’s smug little chuckle, Freddie slapped his bicep. Roger didn’t waste any time either; he was still a little shaky, but he soon had three fingers back in Freddie, thrusting roughly, and Freddie clung to him, eyes squeezed shut. He felt almost dizzy; damn it all, he hadn’t had sex since this fake relationship started and he hadn’t expected to have any until it ended. The last thing he expected was  _ this.  _

(There’d been moments when he wondered, when he  _ hoped-  _ but he didn’t really expect it to happen.)

“Fred?” Roger’s voice was still a little hoarse. “Freddie, look at me.”

Gasping, biting back a whine, Freddie forced his eyes open- and Roger’s expression entirely took him aback. Still blushing, still a little breathless...And he looked  _ awed.  _

“What?” Freddie asked; he hated how his voice cracked, but Roger’s breath hitched and his fingers slowed.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed and- and Freddie just couldn’t handle it, he didn’t know if Roger even  _ meant  _ any of this, or if he was still tipsy. He  _ looked  _ like he meant it, but did Freddie dare get his hopes up? The awe on Roger’s face, his own confused tornado of emotions, combined with Roger’s fingers just  _ teasing  _ now, had him burying his face in Roger’s chest with a whimper.

“Oh, look at that,” Roger teased. “Is the great sex symbol himself tired already?”

Somehow, that did it. That made something in Freddie’s brain just  _ snap.  _ If Roger didn’t mean it, if this was just a one-off deal, then fuck it all to hell Freddie was going to make the most of it.

Growling, he shoved Roger onto his back, wincing when his fingers were pulled out too roughly. Roger let out a surprised yelp but Freddie didn’t give him any time to recover; he pinned Roger to the mattress, hands tight on his wrists.

“You wish, darling,” he said roughly, and Roger’s grin grew.

“No,” he said, slightly breathless. “I really fucking don’t.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“You want a revelation, you want to get it right, but it's a conversation I just can't have tonight. You want a revelation, some kind of resolution, you want a revelation. No light, no light in your bright blue eyes, I never knew daylight could be so violent. A revelation in the light of day, you can't choose what stays and what fades away.” -No Light, No Light, _ ** **Florence And The Machine **

“Well?” Brian demanded as soon as they were home. “Do you know?”

“We know,” Roger said happily, his arm still snug around Freddie’s waist.

_ “And?”  _ Deacy was actually bouncing on the spot. Roger almost felt bad- key word being  _ almost. _

“And you don’t know,” Freddie said sweetly and Roger watched with mounting glee and amusement as Brian and Deacy slowly realised…

“What!? You’re not telling us?” Brian looked like a wounded puppy, but Roger’s grin widened.

“Not yet,” he said cheerfully; Deacy’s eyebrow twitched. Brian wilted on the spot.

“You do realise we’ll know once you start buying baby things?” Deacy pointed out.

“Then you’ll just have to wait until we start shopping,” Roger said and it was truly a struggle not to laugh. He momentarily squeezed Freddie tighter, smiling down at him. Freddie’s hair curled about his face, his eyes caught the light, almost glowing and Roger had to fight to keep quiet, to not just say it all in front of Brian and Deacy. They’d wait until Brian and Deacy were asleep to talk properly, that was the plan; they’d been too giddy in the car and anyway, the drive home wasn’t nearly long enough to explain everything he was feeling. He wasn’t even sure one night would be enough.

Damn Brian and his perceptive eyes, he started to smile.

“Are you…?”

There was a frantic pounding on the door.

“Guys?” came Mary’s voice. “Are you home? Freddie!?”

Instantly, Roger’s stomach sank. Something was wrong. His immediate thought was that Mary was hurt, or her dad was sick, but as Freddie ran to open the door he saw that Mary was holding a magazine tightly to her chest.

“I have some news,” she said weakly.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Freddie asked frantically. “Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

She shook her head, handing him the magazine; whatever she wanted him to see, she had it book-marked...And suddenly Roger  _ knew. _

He should have known. Foster and Sheffield had been eerily quiet the last three days.

Freddie read the article and paled; his next breath came in a shaky gasp and Brian went to him, reaching him before Roger could.

“Fred, you should sit down,” he began- but when he saw what Freddie was reading he blanched. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed. He looked at Roger with wide eyes. “Rog…”

Roger snatched the magazine from Freddie; he barely heard Mary’s soothing words, or Deacy’s frightened questions. He could only stare at the article’s title…

_ “BABY QUEEN! ROGER TAYLOR AND FREDDIE MERCURY EXPECTING!” _

Underneath was a blurry image from a security camera and Roger knew that reception all too well; it was EMI’s reception with it’s big marble desk and potted plants- and walking through that reception was  _ Queen.  _ Roger and Freddie were hand in hand and a red circle had been drawn over Freddie’s stomach, highlighting the baby bump.

The first sentence confirmed what he already knew;  _ “An anonymous source at EMI tells us that Mercury, Roger Taylor’s Omega and the frontman of  _ Queen,  _ is now three months along and due in February.” _

His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, he could barely even see straight. Snarling, growling, he ripped the magazine in half and dropped it on the floor.

“Roggie?”

He looked at Freddie’s big frightened eyes and snapped.

With an angry shout, he turned and punched the wall so hard his knuckles bled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is just beginning...


	8. Scandal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet with Foster and Sheffield. No one's happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMI really do have a way of ruining everything, don't they?

** _“Hey scandal, they're gonna turn our lives into a freak show. They'll see the heart-ache, they'll see our love break. They'll hear me pleading, we'll say ‘For God's sakes!’ over and over and over again. Scandal! Now you've left me there's no healing the wounds. Hey scandal, and all the world can make us out to be fools. Here come the bad news, open the floodgates.” -Scandal, _ ** **Queen**

That very evening there was a call from Foster; he wanted them all to come into the office tomorrow to “discuss these unfortunate events.”

Roger wasn’t fooled for a fucking  _ second.  _ Foster and Sheffield were responsible for the leak, he  _ knew  _ it. It was because he’d told them off, because he said no. They never took it well when they didn’t get their way. They always found a way to make  _ Queen  _ miserable whenever they disagreed or stuck up for themselves. 

He sat at the kitchen table as Freddie cleaned his bleeding knuckles, wrapping them up, and the whole time Freddie didn’t say a word. He still looked too pale and although his hands were steady his lower lip trembled.

“We’ll find out who did this,” Mary vowed, but Roger  _ knew.  _ One glance at the fury on Brian’s face and the tired resignation on Deacy’s told him that his boys knew too.

But Freddie didn’t give a hint as to what he was thinking. If he knew who was to blame he didn’t show it.

And although Roger wanted nothing more than to hunt those bastards down, he couldn’t help but feel responsible. He should have known they’d lash out. He should have known they’d find a way to take back control.

And he knew how society worked. He knew who’d get the brunt of the criticism.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He was proven right the next day. The drive to EMI was quiet; Freddie was wearing one of Roger’s coats, the better to hide the bump with, but he could see the anxiety swimming in Freddie’s eyes. In the back of the van, Deacy was biting at his thumbnail and it was obvious Brian hadn’t gotten much sleep.

None of them had. They were all preparing for the press to swoop in. Hell, Roger had expected to wake up to a crowd of them outside their apartment building.

Instead, they were waiting for  _ Queen  _ at EMI.

There were at least twenty reporters outside EMI’s front doors and although security were frowning at them, they made no move to keep them back or ask them to leave. Instead, as  _ Queen  _ approached and the reporters pounced, security stood back and watched.

(Maybe Roger was paranoid, but he was willing to bet they’d been told to stay back.)

“Freddie!” one man yelled, shoving his mic in Freddie’s face. “Any word on the gender yet? Isn’t this reckless before marriage?” 

And that started a tidal wave.

“Do you and Roger have any plans to bond soon?”

“When’s the wedding?”

“What do your parents think?”

Roger wanted to scream. The press normally ignored Freddie, but here they were shouting over each other and crowding him. The cameras flashed so rapidly that Roger’s eyes stung and Freddie buried his face in Roger’s shoulder, clinging to his arm.

“Alright, the lot of you back off!” Roger shouted over them. Brian, openly snarling, took hold of Freddie’s other arm and began to elbow his way through the crowd, leading them to the door. Deacy pushed ahead of them, keeping the reporters right at the door back, glaring at security.

“What about the  _ child,  _ Freddie, it deserves a proper family!”

“Are your parents angry? Disappointed?”

“Freddie!”

“Freddie, why did you hide it?”

“Your fans deserve to know!”

“Get him inside,” Roger muttered to Brian; he could see the tell-tale signs of an anxiety attack building; Freddie had his eyes squeezed shut, he was trembling all over and his breathing was rapidly becoming irregular. Brian nodded, taking Freddie from Roger and ushering him inside. Deacy held the door open, shooting one last glare at the crowd before slamming it shut in their faces. The front doors were glass, but thankfully Brian had the sense to move away from the doors and windows. Just like that, they were hidden from the reporters’ line of sight.

And Roger stood in front of the doors, fists clenched, trying not to shout.

“Listen here,” he snapped. “We’re not answering  _ any  _ questions about our baby and the next time you swarm my boyfriend like that you’ll be hearing from our manager! Got it?”

Although most of the reporters looked annoyed, some nodded in agreement; being an angry Alpha came in handy. People tended to listen, even if it was only for a little while, even if it was only to shut him up.

When he rounded on the security guards they at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“You’re fucking  _ useless, _ ” Roger snarled. One security guard looked away uncomfortably, the other ducked his head, while the third winced.

Fuck them.

Roger stormed inside, slamming the glass door so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When they reached Foster’s office, Miami, Reid, Prenter and Sheffield were all there. Sheffield almost looked bored, sitting cross-legged on one of the armchairs; Foster, on the other hand, couldn’t keep the smug smirk off his face. Reid looked tired, Miami looked angrier than Roger had ever seen him and Prenter, of course, didn’t seem to care at all, though he too smirked at Roger when they came in; he glared at Freddie’s stomach but stayed obediently by Reid’s side.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, boys, don’t worry,” Sheffield said smoothly. “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”

_ It was you,  _ Roger thought furiously.  _ And I bet those tabloids paid well. _

Because when it came to Sheffield and Foster, money was at the root of it all. No matter how much money they had, it was never enough. No matter how much power they had, it was never enough.

They were easily the greediest people he’d ever met.

He never thought he’d hate anyone as much as he hated his father until he met them.

“You really have no idea?” Reid asked, frowning.

“So far, no,” Sheffield said.

“Well it was obviously someone who had access to the security cameras.”

“We’re working on it,” Foster cut in. Miami’s eyes narrowed suspiciously; Freddie glanced at Foster, his hair falling in his eyes. Unlike the previous night, his suspicion was obvious now.

“In the meantime, we’ve arranged an interview with the BBC on Friday,” Foster continued.

_ “What?”  _ all four of them cried. Freddie’s hands flew back to his stomach.

“People have questions about your next album,” Foster said with a shrug. “Come to that,  _ we  _ have questions. Have you even picked a theme yet?”

“Not yet,” Brian said through gritted teeth.

“I told you, no slacking off,” Foster snapped, glaring solely at Freddie. And although Freddie was clearly exhausted, he glared right back.

“They won’t be asking about the album, they’ll be asking about the  _ baby, _ ” Roger protested. 

“So what if they do?” Sheffield cut in smoothly. “It’s only natural that your fans will be curious. You can clear some things up.”

“Such as?” Brian’s tone was clipped.

“They don’t seem to appreciate being kept in the dark,” Sheffield said. 

“We’re allowed keep some things private,” Freddie said, finally sitting up straight. “I don’t...I don’t want to tell them about my baby.”

“Well isn’t it just too bad that what you want doesn’t matter?” Foster sneered. “So long as you work for us, you follow our rules. If they ask about the album, you’ll answer. If they ask about the kid, you’ll answer.”

“Ray, for goodness’s sake,” Reid protested. “Be reasonable. Some of those questions get very personal. It’s just Omega modesty shining through.”

_ “Omega modesty,”  _ Foster snorted. “Good one.”

“I won’t answer,” Freddie swore. “I  _ won’t. _ ”

“Good luck with that,” Sheffield said.

“They have a right to privacy,” Miami said coldly. “As you well know.”

“These questions will be asked until the child is born,” Sheffield said. He looked at Miami steadily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. “They should answer sooner rather than later. Like I said; clear the air.”

Roger desperately wanted to punch him. He wanted to sweep the stationary and paper-weights off Foster’s desk, he wanted to rip the gold discs off the walls and smash the windows. He wanted to slam Foster’s head against the desk.

He could feel his hands starting to shake; for a moment everyone’s voices sounded muffled.

But then a familiar hand, small and warm, closed over his.

Startled back to reality, he looked down; Freddie was holding his hand, steadily meeting Foster’s condescending gaze. 

“Thank you for the advice,” Freddie said flatly. “But we’ll handle this in our own time.”

It seemed to take a moment for the two Alphas to hear the  _ Fuck off  _ in that sentence, but when they did their smiles fell into almost simultaeneous glares.

A long, tense pause followed. Miami pressed his lips together in a vain attempt to hide his smile; even Reid looked momentarily amused.

Freddie just smiled sweetly, still holding Roger’s hand, still grounding him.

Finally, Sheffield managed an icy smile.

“You’re welcome.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love; grey clouds roll over the hills, bringing darkness from above. But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” -Pompeii, _ ** **Bastille **

The press were still waiting as they left EMI, but Miami was a trooper; he helped them push through the crowd and the reporters were fast to back off when the heard the words, “I’m their lawyer.”

“It’ll be okay, boys,” he said as they reached the van. “We’ll sort this out.”

“We know who it was,” Roger said. Miami nodded.

“But we’ve no real proof,” he said tiredly. He gave a wan smile. “But we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“I just don’t understand  _ why, _ ” Freddie said.

“Money,” Miami said and Freddie instantly drooped. What little sparkle he had in his eyes today just  _ died. _

“Yeah,” Freddie mumbled. “That’d be it.” Roger helped him into the van and they were soon heading home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“We’ll handle this,” Brian said when they got inside. “We will.”

“Oh please, we all know how this will go,” Freddie said flatly. He flung his borrowed jacket off, throwing it onto the coffee table. “I’m going to be called an irresponsible whore until this child is born, they’ll accuse me of not thinking of the baby, they’re going to call me stupid and reckless and-” His voice broke. He flopped onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I’m fucking  _ sick  _ of this, I  _ hate  _ them.”

“I won’t let them away with it,” Roger promised. He pulled Freddie close, ignoring his whine of protest. “Freddie, I swear, I won’t let them talk about you like that.”

“They always have, darling, you can’t stop them,” Freddie said tiredly. The worst part, Roger thought, was that it was true. The press had always been the harshest with Freddie, constantly saying that he needed to be reigned in and reminded of his  _ proper place.  _

And maybe Roger hadn’t been able to shut them up in the past, not really, but there was no way he’d take this lying down. The press had no idea what they were talking about; Freddie wasn’t irresponsible, he was already doing his best to take care of their baby. He’d stopped smoking, he’d stopped drinking, he didn’t even eat junk food much anymore. He rested when he needed to, he didn’t push himself. It wasn’t _ his _ fault he was in so much pain, he did what he could to elevate that.

The press wouldn’t see any of that and Roger knew it- but if they thought for one second he’d let them insult Freddie and call him a bad father, they had another thing coming.

And if Sheffield and Foster thought he’d take this lying down, they’d better think again.

He  _ knew  _ they were responsible for the leak.  _ They  _ were responsible for how anxious and stressed Freddie was.

  
Those bastards were going to  _ pay. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst and drama begin.


	9. Look What You Made Me Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's anxiety rises; after an interview that goes south, Brian comes up with a plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie deserves happiness, damn it.

**August 19th** **   
** ** _“But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand any blaze you blew my way. 'Cause something inside, it solidified, and I knew I'd always stay. You can build me up, you can tear me down, you can try but I'm unbreakable. You can do your best, but I'll stand the test. You'll find that I'm unshakeable.” -Heart Of Stone, _ ** **Six: The Musical**

The day before their interview was Deacy’s birthday. Originally, they were planning on taking Deacy out but with this stupid interview they couldn’t afford to be too tired or hung over the next day.

The plans changed; they were still throwing him a surprise party, but now they were staying home. Veronica was staying the night (poor Brimi had volunteered his bed to Freddie and was now sleeping on the sofa); everyone else would  _ hopefully  _ go home.

So while Roger distracted Deacy all day, Brian went to collect Deacy’s mother and sister from the train station and Veronica and Mary offered to decorate the flat, Freddie went to collect the cake.

And that was when things started to go wrong.

People were staring. That wasn’t too unusual; in fact it was becoming a regular occurrence since their  _ Killer Queen  _ performance on the BBC. Even the whispers weren’t unusual.

But then he realised what people were  _ saying. _

“Is that-?”

“Yeah.”

“What does Roger  _ see  _ in him?”

_ “Slut.” _

“-totally to trap Roger-”

Again and again, the whole walk there;  _ “Slut, slut, slut.” _

He tried to block it out. He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking, but he still nearly dropped the money as he collected the cake. The cashier looked at him and Freddie, to his increasing dismay, saw recognition in the man’s eyes. He looked at Freddie’s stomach and frowned; as he turned away, Freddie heard him mutter, “Stupid slut.”

_ “Slut, slut, slut.” _

Part of him wanted to demand an apology; he wanted to stick up for himself like usual, he wanted to snap that it  _ wasn’t fair.  _ It took two people to make a baby, why was  _ he  _ the only one being criticised? 

But he froze. He felt dizzy, he wanted to throw up. He clutched the cake box so tightly he was afraid of crushing the stupid thing and wrecking Deacy’s day. God, if he went home like this, all shaky and quiet, he’d  _ definitely  _ ruin Deacy’s day. He had to get a grip. He’d faced worse than this. What the hell was wrong with him?

_ “Slut, slut, slut.” _

Damn it, he was so,  _ so  _ fed up; he was exhausted and sick, and when he reached the end of their street he started to run. He just wanted to get  _ home,  _ he wanted everyone to stop  _ staring;  _ he wanted all the pointing and sneers to just  _ stop.  _ It wasn’t just Freddie; it felt like they were laughing at his baby, sneering at his child and he couldn’t stand it. Sudden tears blurred his vision- he wanted to blame it on hormones, but it wasn’t that, not entirely. He ran the entire length of the street to their flat, nearly tripping into the front door. 

_ “Slut, slut, slut.” _

This wasn’t fucking  _ fair.  _

_ “Slut, slut, slut.” _

“No I’m not,” Freddie muttered, without knowing who he was even meant to be talking to. He was alone in the dimly lit corridor, clutching a cake box to his chest, trying to get his breathing under control. Who the hell was he trying to fool? The baby kicked again and again, each kick growing in strength; it didn’t help the urge to throw up.

He wiped at his eyes and plastered a smile on his face as he went upstairs. Just his luck, Veronica and Mary took one look at him and  _ knew.  _

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mary asked, taking the box and setting it aside. “You’re shaking.”

“Just sick,” Freddie said, which wasn’t quite a lie. He looked around and forced another smile. “The decorations look lovely.” They did; the girls had put up streamers everywhere and scattered handfuls of confetti on the kitchen table and strung up a  _ “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN!”  _ banner over the sofa.

“...Someone said something, didn’t they?” Veronica asked gently; of course she realised. She was an Omega too, she was all too used to being leered at and looked down upon.

“Nothing worse than usual,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, looking anguished. “I should have gone instead, I-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Freddie pushed past her, avoiding eye-contact. “I can’t hide inside all the time, that would be stupid. Anyone else want tea?”

“You should tell Roger,” Mary persisted, but when Freddie frowned at her she sighed, folding her arms. She looked to Veronica, but Veronica only said, “I’m with Freddie.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “ _ Fine.  _ But I still think you should tell him.”

“Later,” Freddie said. Because fuck it all, it was Deacy’s birthday; today was  _ not  _ the day for tears or anxiety. 

Fuck everyone else. They didn’t matter; his friends mattered. This was  _ Deacy’s  _ day, and Freddie wouldn’t let anyone (not even himself) spoil it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**BBC Studios, London, August 20th** **   
** ** _“You may have my number, you can take my name, but you'll never have my heart. Let the sky fall. When it crumbles, we will stand tall, face it all together.” -Skyfall, _ ** **Adele**

As much as Brian despised miming, he had to give the BBC some credit; their interviews were usually interesting. Theirs were some of the first interviewers to actually address Freddie directly, or ask him relevant questions. 

Not this time.

The interviewer was a Beta woman named Lisa, smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and highheels. They’d never been interviewed by her before, Brian couldn’t even recall seeing her on TV before. She was new, and that made Brian nervous. He didn’t know what to expect from her.

She didn’t leave him wondering for long; she smilingly introduced him, Roger and Deacy, but described Freddie only as “Roger’s Omega.”

There was polite applause from the audience, but Roger drew himself up; his grip on Freddie’s waist almost looked painful.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” Roger snapped. “His name is  _ Freddie,  _ and he’s our lead singer.”

To Brian’s increasing frustration, Lisa only smiled. “Of course,” she said sweetly, but she didn’t correct herself; she launched straight into the questions, thankfully asking about their next album.

“You’re expected to have it out by next year,” she said. “But there’s rumours about the album’s theme already. Can we have any hints, Brian?”

“Oh...All I can say is we want to change things up,” Brian said. “Really show off what we can do.” It was all they had so far; they wanted this album to be theatrical; they wanted to push their limits and cross boundaries. They just weren’t sure  _ how  _ yet.

“Mysterious,” Lisa laughed. “And, well, I’m sure your fans are concerned- you’re all recovered now?”

“Completely,” Brian replied.

“But you’re not finishing your tour?”

There was a brief, awkward pause. “Well…”

“Though I suppose you can’t now,” she said, with a pointed look at Freddie’s stomach. She seemed oblivious to Roger’s glare. “Roger, can we expect a proposal any time soon?”

Roger gave an awkward laugh, holding Freddie so close that the Omega was nearly on his lap. “That would be telling,” he said. The audience let out an exaggerated  _ “Oooh!”  _ while Lisa’s smile widened; she winked at the audience before turning back to Roger.

“Oh, you have to make an honest man out of him!”

The audience laughed and clapped, but  _ Queen  _ stayed stony.

“Well,” Roger said slowly. “I won’t be proposing on TV, will I?”

“I...Suppose not.” Lisa seemed bewildered as to why he wasn’t playing along. She turned to Deacy. “Well, happy late birthday, John! Can we expect any more songs from you on the next album?”

“I’ve a few ideas,” Deacy lied smoothly. For a few minutes she just asked about the album, John’s birthday and what it was like to work for EMI. Brian was just daring to relax when she said, “Any news on the gender, Roger?”

“We decided not to know,” Roger lied, clenching his jaw.

“Oh, why not?”

“Considering the news was leaked before we wanted it to be, we figured it’d be safer to not look ourselves.”

There was another uncomfortable pause, but Lisa nodded in agreement. “I see,” she said; she certainly  _ looked  _ sympathetic. “I’m sure this is a difficult time for you, Roger. Any idea who did this?”

“It’s a hard time for  _ us, _ ” Roger finally snapped. “Actually I’d say it’s harder for Freddie since  _ he’s  _ the one everyone’s bullying.”

“Rog,” Freddie said tiredly. He’d been pale and drooping from the moment they got up; he’d been sick twice and had been left shivering for the entire drive to the BBC. For once, he’d seemed almost  _ grateful  _ to be ignored, but not now.

“Bullying?” Lisa tilted her head. “I’d hardly call it bullying, Roger.”

Finally, there was some bloody  _ emotion  _ on Freddie’s face. He finally looked annoyed. “Then what do you call it, dear?” he asked icily. She glanced at him, raised her eyebrows and looked back to Roger. Before she could say anything, Roger cut over her; “ _ I’d _ call it bullying. What else do you call someone making stupid allegations and calling someone a slut or an idiot?”

“Well…” She raised her eyebrows pointedly at Freddie’s stomach, shaking her head. “Like I said, I wouldn’t call it bullying.” 

_ No,  _ Brian thought.  _ You’d call it a fact. _

Freddie went even paler, though his eyes were flashing. Brian had a lovely image of hitting Lisa on the head with her high heels. There was snickering from the audience and that did it; Roger pulled Freddie to his feet.

“Forget this,” he snapped. “I’m not doing any interviews with someone who thinks it’s okay to treat my boyfriend like shit.” Ignoring Lisa’s shocked stare, Roger pulled Freddie away, back in the direction of the dressing room.

Silence reigned.

Brian turned to Lisa with a sharp smile.

“Well, that goes for me too,” he said brightly. “We’ve always said we won’t do interviews where Freddie is treated badly.” He followed Roger and Freddie, Deacy right at his heels.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger had indeed brought Freddie back to their dressing room; Freddie was doubled over, gasping.

“Fred?” Brian ran over, wrapping an arm around him. “Okay, deep breaths, it’s okay.”

“I’m sick of this,” Freddie sobbed. “Fuck, it’s only been a week and I can’t stand this anymore.”

“Freddie, please, you have to calm down,” Roger pleaded. “It’s not good for the baby.”

It was obvious he was doing his best; he breathed in sharply, holding his breath before he released it slowly; his eyes were still closed, his hands were shaking terribly, but his breathing slowly began to even out.

“Boys?” Reid was in the doorway, frowning. “Look, I...Sorry about all that. I get it, I do, but Foster’s going to lose it.”

“When does he  _ not? _ ” Deacy huffed; far from intimidated, he just looked annoyed. “We can handle that creep.”

Brian looked at Roger; he seemed torn between shouting and crying, teary-eyed but clearly furious. And then there was Freddie, still shaking, eyes still closed as he forced himself to keep calm.

If there was anything Brian could do to help them, anything he could do to keep that baby safe, he’d do it.

Foster wasn’t about to intimidate them into silence.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time. Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time. I've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined; I check it once, then I check it twice, oh! Ooh, look what you made me do.” -Look What You Made Me Do, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

As soon as they got home, Freddie went to rest and Roger followed him. While Deacy set about making lunch, Brian made a call to Miami.

“Miami, it’s Brian. Listen, we all know it was Foster or Sheffield that leaked the pregnancy. Maybe it was both, I don’t know. I don’t  _ care.  _ But we need a way to make them shut up and leave Freddie alone. He...He’s so stressed and anxious, this isn’t  _ healthy.  _ He’s already sick and in pain, this isn’t helping.”

“I know,” Miami sighed; he sounded as upset as Brian felt. “But what proof do we have?”

“Well, like Reid said, it was obviously someone who had access to the security cameras,” Brian said. “They both do.”

“So does the entire security team,” Miami pointed out. “They’ll just blame it on a member of security.”

“Maybe so,” Brian said, his brain in a whirl, ideas flying through so fast he could barely keep up. Slowly, he started to smile. “That may just work in our favour.”

“How so?”

“Head of security...Philip, right? Has a family, new baby and all.” He’d been one of the few people to genuinely congratulate Freddie and Roger. He’d shown them pictures of his family; his Omega husband, their four small children and their newborn. “Young kids, his husband’s on  _ unpaid _ paternity leave...And EMI isn’t exactly paying him well either.”

“Where are you going with this Brian?”

“I think it’s time to think like Sheffield,” Brian said. “And make Philip talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planned for next time; doctor appointments, Brian and Miami confronting Philip, and hopefully the last of the flashbacks.


	10. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Deacy and Miami make their move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling a little more focused today; took some time to myself to try and process the shock, so while this chapter isn't exactly what I wanted, I'm feeling much happier with it.

** _“Can't look back, can't look too far ahead. I got the point, I got the message. I'm just a little bit caught in the middle, I try to keep going but it's not that simple. I think I'm a little bit caught in the middle. I gotta keep going or they'll call me a quitter. Yeah, I'm caught in the middle.” -Caught In The Middle, _ ** **Paramore**

Brian felt almost sick with nerves. Today he, Deacy and Miami would be confronting Philip while Roger and Freddie went to the doctor.

As Brian bustled about making breakfast, Freddie flipped through a book of baby names.

“Find any good ones?” Deacy asked with faux innocence. Freddie nodded without looking up.

“Yeah, I really like-” He cut himself off, frowning suspiciously at Deacy. “Nice try, darling.”

“Please, Fred, this is killing me.”

“Maybe this’ll teach you not to be so nosy,” Roger said with a grin. Brian barely refrained from pointing out that he and Freddie _ still _ hadn’t really sorted themselves out. If you asked him it was clear they had real feelings for each other; they were all but together, but they still hadn’t had a _ discussion _about it.

But he’d worry about that later. For now, he had a security guard to interrogate.

  
  
  
  
  


Roger couldn’t help but frown as Atwood shook her head and wrote out a new prescription.

“I think I’m taking more than enough tablets,” Freddie joked weakly.

“For the nausea and pain, yes,” Atwood said. “These will help keep your anxiety in check.”

Freddie sighed, but took the prescription. Roger had to admit, he’d been worried about Freddie’s anxiety levels; they just seemed to keep growing. The more tired, ill and in pain he was, the more anxious he got that he wasn’t taking good care of the baby. The more the press heckled him, the more anxious he got. Roger had never seen him so wound up before.

Outside, Freddie kept scowling at the prescription.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Everyone else can carry a baby without needing an entire pharmacy’s worth of help! I haven’t needed anxiety medication since I was _ thirteen! _” He looked wretched, crumpling the paper before Roger could stop him. “...Am I doing something wrong?” Freddie asked quietly. “I just...Shouldn’t this be easier?”

“You’re doing _ nothing _wrong,” Roger said fiercely. He grabbed Freddie’s hand, tugging the Omega against his side. “Freddie, some people...Just have a harder time of it than others, that’s all.”

Freddie sighed somewhat impatiently, one hand resting on his stomach. “I just hate feeling like I need so much help all the time,” he said. “I feel like I can’t even look after the baby on my own.”

“Yeah, well, I hate feeling like I can’t help _ either _of you,” Roger admitted. He patted the baby bump, smiling at the small kick he felt. 

“You help plenty,” Freddie said.

Roger wasn’t sure he agreed with that; if he had his way, Freddie wouldn’t be feeling so ill all the time; he wouldn’t be in pain. If Roger could magically fix everything, he would. He wished it could be like the films or TV shows: an easy, happy pregnancy with no troubles at all.

But he couldn’t snap his fingers and make it all better.

So instead he managed a smile and asked, “Speaking of the baby, how’s Peanut?”

“Kicking a _ lot, _” Freddie laughed; he instantly lit up and Roger never wanted him to stop looking like that. Like he was glowing. “Seems to crave sweets a lot.”

“Well, I _ can _help with that.” He twirled the van’s keys and grinned. “How about we grab some ice cream?”

Freddie beamed up at him; he let go of Roger’s hand, and pulled Roger’s arm over his shoulders instead.

“Lead the way.”

  
  
  
  
  


**EMI Studios** **  
** ** _“These golden ashes turn to dirt. I've always liked to play with fire. Play with fire. Play with fire. Fire, fire. I've always liked to play with fire. Oh, watching as the flames get higher. Oh, I've always liked to play with…” -Play With Fire, _ ** **Sam Tinnesz**

Brian wondered if Philip had been expecting this; he took one look at Brian, with Miami and Deacy standing behind him and went pale. The surveillance room was dark and cramped; the cameras on the walls showed almost every inch of the building, the car park and the outdoor smoking area. A quick glance showed Sheffield in a meeting with Foster and other executives. _ Perfect. _

“Any luck on finding who’s responsible for the leak?” Brian asked, folding his arms.

“None yet,” Philip said, glancing at the cameras.

“Hm...You’re sure about that?” Brian asked. He glanced back at Miami; the older Alpha nodded encouragingly. Brian continued, frowning down at Philip. “Because we got a call from Sheffield yesterday,” he lied. “Something Reid said struck a chord with him. See, Reid said that the leak had to come from someone with access to the cameras…” 

Philip was going paler and paler.

“Seems Sheffield thinks it’s _ you. _”

_ “Me!?” _Philip was white as a sheet, hands shaking.

“You,” Deacy said cooly. 

“He’s already talking of firing you,” Miami lied. “There was an...argument with Roger about Freddie’s health. Sheffield’s worried that if anything happens to the baby that _ he _could be blamed.”

“But it wasn’t me!”

“No?” Miami raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“It wasn’t!” Philip protested. “I swear, it wasn’t. God, Sheffield, he- he can’t fire me, my _ husband, _he-”

“Has just had a baby,” Miami finished. “We know.” There was a photo of Philip’s husband and their children on a little desk in the corner. “So that’s why I’m struggling to understand why, as a father, you’d put another pregnant Omega at risk. Freddie’s very ill, Philip. He-”

“It wasn’t me!” Brian was startled to see tears in Philip’s eyes. “It wasn’t me, I promise, I’d _ never, _I- Freddie’s a good kid, I’d never put a baby at risk like that!”

“So if it wasn’t you then who was it?” Brian demanded. “Let’s say I believe you, and it wasn’t you. Who was it?”

“I don’t know…”

“You’re lying,” Deacy cut in. “You’re head of security. You have to have seen something, you _ know. _”

Miami strolled over to the photo, bending down slightly to get a better look. “Cute kids,” he commented. “Your husband’s on unpaid paternity leave, isn’t he? Money must be tight, hm? Maybe you hoped the tabloids would pay well- after all, Sheffield doesn’t.”

“But it wasn’t me!” Philip stood up so abruptly his chair fell. A tear escaped and he pressed his hands against his eyes. “It _ wasn’t me, _it was Sheffield!”

Silence reigned. Philip looked sick. 

Miami started to smirk.

“Bingo,” he said.

“...You knew,” Philip realised.

“Of course we did,” Brian cut in. “We’re not idiots. The man _ owns _this company, of course he has access to the cameras.”

“But you knew it was him too,” Miami said. “Did he admit it, or were you there?”

“...I was there,” Philip admitted in a mortified whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have gone along with it, but- but you’re right, money’s tight right now. We’ve _ five _children, my husband’s stuck looking after them alone all day, we’re…”

“Struggling,” Deacy finished quietly. His eyes shone with sympathy, even as he did his best to glare. “So are we. So are Rog and Freddie, even more so now.”

“I know,” Philip said, avoiding eye contact. 

“Sheffield paid you off then?” Miami asked.

“He gave me double my salary,” Philip said. “Said he will do until my husband’s back in work.”

“You do realise Sheffield would gladly sell you out? We’re not joking about that; you’re his shield,” Miami pointed out. “It’s your word against his.”

“But it’s not! I have the tape.” Philip turned back to the monitors, pressing too many buttons to count- and suddenly, they were looking at the surveillance room; they watched as Sheffield walked in and spoke with Philip; they were clearly arguing, but eventually Sheffield won out. Philip pulled up footage of Freddie and Roger wandering the halls; the angle gave them a clear view of Freddie’s baby bump. Sheffield nodded in approval; Philip reluctantly handed him a tape, and Sheffield left. 

Philip pressed a few more buttons and the camera switched to the hallway; they watched Sheffield, holding the tape, head to Foster’s office. Another press of a button and the footage sped up; after a moment, Sheffield left Foster’s office, still holding the tape.

“There,” Philip sighed, slumping tiredly, fumbling for the fallen chair. “You see? It was him.”

Brian and Deacy looked at Miami; their lawyer had a small smirk on his face.

“Perfect,” he said. “We can work with that. Philip, we’re going to need that tape. We’ll take it from here.”

“But…” Philip eyed them warily, but they were deadly serious.

“This isn’t a game,” Miami said coldly. “This is an invasion of privacy, something you _ can _be sued for. This is something Sheffield would gladly let you take the fall for. Now, we’re going to need that tape. I promise, after this Sheffield will be in no position to threaten you.”

“Please,” Deacy said. “We’re just trying to protect the baby.”

That did it. Philip nodded; he still looked frightened and pale, but he gave them the tape.

  
  
  
  
  


**May…** **  
** ** _“I suck your mind, you blow my head. Make love! Inside your bed, everybody. get down make love. Get down make love. Get down make love.” -Get Down, Make Love, _ ** **Queen**

The mess on Freddie’s stomach was nothing compared to the mess between his legs, and Roger was doing his level best not to stare.

“You okay?” he asked, propped up on his elbow. Freddie nodded, humming tiredly, eyelids drooping. The only light in the room came from the streetlamp outside, glowing orange and _ no one _looked good in that light, but Roger couldn’t look away all the same. Freddie’s hair was a mess, the mark on his neck was nearly black, the darkest it had ever been. His chest heaved as his breathing slowed back to normal, hickeys littered his neck and chest and bruises in the shape of Roger’s fingertips were already forming on his thighs and hips. What’s more, he smelled more like Roger than he smelled like himself. 

He looked a mess.

He looked beautiful.

“Fred?”

“Hm?” Freddie cracked an eye open with a tired, vacant smile.

_ You’re beautiful. You’re amazing. I can’t believe we just did that. I can’t believe you wanted me to do that. Did you want me to do that? I didn’t hurt you, did I? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re too good for me, I love you. _

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

“We should clean up,” Roger managed in a weak croak. “I mean- shower…”

Freddie’s smile wavered, but he nodded and allowed Roger to help him to his feet.

Roger wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hold onto him and never let him go.

Instead, he went ahead and set the shower up, searching for Freddie’s favourite fluffy towels.

  
  
  
  
  


**August…** **  
** ** _“Another day, and you've had your fill of sinking. With the life held in your hands are shaking cold. These hands are meant to hold. Speak to me. When all you gotta keep is strong, move along, move along like I know you do.” -Move Along, _ ** **The All American Rejects**

After the doctor's appointment, it was a quiet afternoon. Roger and Freddie lounged about, watching TV or flipping through the book of baby names. Right now they were curled up on the sofa, Freddie tucked up against Roger’s side with Roger’s arm thrown over his shoulders, holding him close.

“I was wondering- maybe we could pick a Persian name?” Roger suggested. “Or an Indian one?”

“Why?” Freddie asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.

“They’re gorgeous,” Roger said. He pointed to a name he particularly liked. “They’re gorgeous,” he repeated. “They grab your attention. I think it’d really stand out.”

“...That is a pretty name,” Freddie admitted, but there was a certain reluctance in his voice. “I don’t know, Rog. I just...People are cruel about anything different.”

“I’ll stop them,” Roger said, perfectly serious. The kid wasn’t even here yet, but if anyone did anything to hurt his baby, he’d ruin them.

“I know you would, darling,” Freddie said with a smile.

Which was when Brian and Deacy came home- and to Roger’s confusion, they had Miami with them.

“What’s all this?” Roger asked.

Brian held up a tape with a triumphant grin.

“We’ve got it,” he said gleefully. “It was Sheffield who told the press about the baby and we can _ prove it. _”

Freddie dropped the book; Roger froze, gaping at them- and slowly, he started to grin.

“Seriously?” he asked. “We’ve got him?”

“We’ve got him,” Miami confirmed.

Brian popped the tape into the VCR and they all sat back to watch; by the end, despite his mounting anger at Sheffield, Roger was grinning broadly.

“Game,” he said lowly, viciously. “Set. Match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it! Where will this take them?


	11. Death By A Thousand Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys confront Foster and Sheffield, and some secrets are revealed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time! But how will Foster and Sheffield react?

**August 24th, EMI Studios** **   
** ** _“We stole our new lives through blood and name. In defense of our dreams, in defense of our dreams. We were the Kings and Queens of promise. We were the victims of ourselves. Maybe the children of a lesser God, between Heaven and Hell. Heaven and Hell.” -Kings And Queens, _ ** **Thirty Seconds To Mars**

John felt  _ giddy.  _ For the first time in their whole career with EMI, they had the upper hand. They could finally fight back; they  _ finally  _ had Sheffield and Foster backed into a corner.

If the executives had been suspicious when Reid called them to arrange a meeting they didn’t let on; they were all gathered in Sheffield’s spacious office at the top level of EMI. It was a large room, luxurious; it had a few watercolour paintings hanging on the walls (which had mildly surprised John: he wasn’t sure what he expected from Sheffield, but it wasn’t watercolours), it had plush grey sofas and matching armchairs, a thick fur rug, a few potted plants; Sheffield, of course, had his own record player and a stack of vinyls, as well as his own coffee machine- and (best of all) he had his own television and VCR in the corner. It was one of the brightest rooms in the building what with all the windows; unlike Foster, who kept his office chilly, Sheffield’s was well heated.

The  _ Queen  _ boys all sat together on the sofa, each of them dressed to kill and all of them sitting as perfectly straight as they could. Reid sat in one of the armchairs, barely biting back a frown (he hadn’t been happy once Brian informed him what was going on) and, sadly, Prenter sat next to Reid. Every time he looked at Freddie’s stomach his face contorted with disgust. 

Well, John would be lying if he said it didn’t amuse him at all.

Just as Sheffield was getting impatient, Miami arrived with Foster in tow- and Miami, smirking, was holding the tape.

Was it John’s imagination or did Sheffield go a little pale at the sight?

“Will someone bloody tell us what this is about, already?” Foster demanded as he took a seat. As usual, he had his sunglasses on, frowning around at them all. 

“It’s about the leak,” Roger said.

“We’re looking into it,” Sheffield said smoothly. He looked suspicious,  _ wary  _ even, when the  _ Queen  _ boys all smiled at him.

“No,” Brian said. “You’re not. Miami?”

His smirk widening, Miami popped the tape into the VCR; Foster went red and Sheffield  _ definitely  _ paled as the footage began to play.

“We had a word with Philip,” Brian said coldly. “Seems you offered him double his salary in exchange for his silence.”

“He’s lying,” Sheffield sputtered. “That could be any tape.”

“It could,” Miami agreed. “But I’m willing to bet that if I called the tabloids and explained I’m the boys’  _ lawyer,  _ they’d tell me who their  _ anonymous source  _ is quick enough. Or am I wrong?”

“You sold us out,” Roger spat. “It’s  _ your  _ fault the press have been hounding us and harassing Freddie! Give us one good reason why we  _ shouldn’t  _ sue?”

For the first time ever, Sheffield actually looked  _ panicked.  _ He cleared his throat, smoothing down his suit.

“Now, now. No need for us to be too hasty. I’m sure we can-”

“There’s no  _ we  _ in this,” Freddie snarled; both hands rested protectively on his stomach. “You sold our private information, you had  _ no right. _ ”

Foster growled; he was so red that John wondered if he would pop a vein. “Keep your mouth  _ shut,  _ you little-”

_ “Shut up.”  _ Freddie turned to him furiously, eyes blazing. “This is  _ my baby  _ we’re talking about, you had no right to go to the tabloids! You sold us out for cash. You want us to keep quiet? Convince us it’s worth it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sheffield gasped.

“You heard me,” Freddie snapped. Roger rested a hand on Freddie’s stomach; Freddie relaxed minutely, but he glared Sheffield down.

“I think you’ll find the boys are right,” Miami said mildly. Calmly, as if this happened every day, he took the last empty seat, crossing his legs. “You want to keep this out of court, don’t you?”

Lips pressed together, fists clenched, Sheffield nodded.

Miami smiled. “Perfect. So let’s talk.”

The  _ Queen  _ boys looked at Sheffield expectantly. Foster went to speak, but when Sheffield raised his hand he kept quiet. John waited with mounting impatience for Sheffield to make up his mind.

Eventually he sighed. “What do you want?”

“Well, the down-payment I asked for would be lovely,” Roger said cheerfully. He wrapped an arm around Freddie’s shoulders, smiling. “You keep holding back on our wages; I’m sure we’d  _ all  _ like the money you owe us.”

A muscle in Sheffield’s jaw twitched, but he nodded. “Done.”

“No more springing interviews on us at the last minute,” Brian said. “You can’t get pissed at us for having plans we can’t cancel, or being away when you don’t  _ warn  _ us that you have an interview set up. Same goes for photoshoots. From now on we  _ all  _ get a say in the arrangements.”

Foster scowled, Sheffield looked like he wanted to shout at them, but he nodded again. 

“No more nude photoshoots without my, or Roger’s permission,” Freddie put in quickly- and oddly, Foster scoffed, while Sheffield looked more annoyed than ever. Roger’s eyes flashed, but he looked at Sheffield expectantly. 

Finally, Sheffield huffed and said, “Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Have it your way.”

“I think that’s all,” John said with a sweet little smile; he wanted to laugh at the looks of disgust on Sheffield and Foster’s faces.

“Well, no more leaking our private information, obviously,” Roger drawled. “But that goes without saying, yeah?”

Reid looked disapprovingly at the executives, shaking his head. “This was all completely unnecessary,” he said. “I can’t understand why you pulled this, Norman.”

Sheffield didn’t deign to answer, but Foster rounded on Reid with a furious glare. God, if looks could kill they’d  _ all  _ be dead.

Miami sorted through his briefcase, and held out a sheet of paper.

“It’s a written agreement,” he said. “You and Ray just sign your names at the bottom. We want this agreement in writing, I’m sure you understand?”

“Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me!?” Foster exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“I’m their lawyer,” Miami said coldly. “A verbal agreement isn’t enough. You’ve already broken the law- in fact, if you count that photoshoot last year you broke your own contract by going behind Roger’s back too. You’ve done that  _ twice  _ now.”

It was funny, really; when they’d first met Miami they’d all be intimidated and wary- and they soon realised Miami was intimidated and wary of them too. But now...John couldn’t imagine anyone else going out of their way to help them like this. Surely other lawyers would be more inclined to do what Sheffield and Foster wanted?

But not Miami; that man knew how to cover any loopholes.

Gritting his teeth, Sheffield signed the agreement; Foster snatched it so hard an edge tore, and as he signed he was vibrating with anger. John dimly wondered if it was possible to have an anger-induced heart attack. He almost hoped so.

Foster shoved the paper back at Miami; their lawyer appeared completely unruffled. He simply stored the paper away again with a little smile.

“I believe we’re done here,” Reid said. They all stood, but as they moved towards the door, Foster muttered, “This is all Taylor’s fault anyway.”

Freddie gave an impatient huff; he looked back over his shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “And  _ how  _ could this possibly be Roger’s fault, darling?” he demanded.

Foster glared at him; as usual, he looked at Freddie like he was a particularly annoying insect. “Funny you should mention nude photoshoots,” he said. “Seeing as that’s what started this in the first place. If Taylor had just did what we asked we wouldn’t have needed to take such drastic measures.” He lowered his sunglasses, glaring over the top of them at Roger. “Isn’t that right, Taylor?”

“What are you talking about?” Freddie asked, scowling.

To John’s growing concern, both executives suddenly  _ grinned. _

“Oho…” Sheffield steepled his fingers together. “Well then. This is interesting.”

John was totally at a loss; one look at Brian and Freddie told him they were equally confused, but Roger went bone white...And even Miami looked nervous.

What was going on?

“We had an offer for Roger,” Sheffield said smoothly.

“Shut up,” Roger hissed.

“I said we’d give you the down-payment for a new home, whatever amount you needed...If he let us handle the announcement of your pregnancy.”

“Sure you did,” Freddie scoffed.

“Oh, I’m not lying, my dear.” Sheffield’s eyes were gleaming. He was enjoying this. “We wanted to do a photoshoot; as I told Roger, paternity shoots are very popular. Think of the sales!”

“I said  _ shut up! _ ” Roger barked, but Sheffield continued, unflinching; “It was just another nude photoshoot or two, nothing to get worked up about.”

Freddie flinched backwards, paling. Unbidden, memories of last year’s nude photoshoot came back to John; all the lewd comments, all the pinching and groping; all those eyes just  _ staring,  _ all the laughter...And all of it was directed at Freddie. All because he stood up for himself, and for John. It had made John want to cry, and it hadn’t even been aimed at him. 

“Rog?” Freddie turned to him, looking completely lost. “Rog, what are they talking about?”

“I see they didn’t tell you,” Sheffield said, shaking his head mock-disapprovingly.

“They?”

“Well, Jim was there too,” Sheffield said with a cold smile. Stunned, John gaped at Miami and Roger; they both looked horrified.

“That’s none of your business,” Roger croaked.

“No, but it is  _ Freddie’s. _ ” Sheffield turned to Freddie, smiling slightly more warmly, a  _ You can trust me, I promise,  _ look on his face. “Perhaps I should have asked Freddie from the start. What do you say, my dear? I’m sure you could use the extra money for your baby. The sales were phenomenal last time- and who can blame them, a pretty little thing like you?”

If he’d hoped to entice Freddie he miscalculated; Freddie looked  _ sick.  _ His hands cradled the baby bump protectively; he bristled like an angry cat, even as he looked embarrassed. 

“Not a hope in hell,” he hissed. He turned on his heel and stormed out; John ran after him, closely followed by Roger and Brian.

“Freddie!” He caught up with him easily. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Freddie said through clenched teeth. Reid, Paul and Miami were hurrying after the four of them; Miami looked concerned, Reid looked confused and Paul looked outright  _ gleeful.  _

“Fred, wait, please-” Roger reached out for him, but for the first time ever, Freddie jerked away.

“Don’t.” Freddie glared at him, punching the button for the lift with too much force. “Just  _ don’t. _ ”

“Freddie,” Miami said cautiously- but he shut up when Freddie turned his furious gaze on him, drooping slightly. He and Roger both looked like chastened children, and John understood why they hadn’t said anything, really he did. Freddie was stressed enough as it was; John would have kept this quiet too if it was him.

But he also knew Freddie wouldn’t see it that way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“‘Cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts. Flashbacks waking me up, I get drunk, but it's not enough, ‘cause the morning comes, and you're not my baby. I look through the windows of this love, even though we boarded them up. Chandelier still flickering here, ‘cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not. It's death by a thousand cuts.” -Death By A Thousand Cuts, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

The drive home was awful; they should have been triumphant and laughing, but Freddie was quietly seething, and Roger kept glancing at him warily. Freddie didn’t even answer Brian when he asked if he was okay. 

Not good.  _ So  _ not good. Fuck, he should have told him the truth when it happened; he should have found a quiet moment to tell Freddie he knew why Sheffield and Foster leaked the news. He should have said something,  _ shit.  _ They were finally getting on track and now...God, was this it? Would Freddie even  _ want  _ to date Roger after this? 

The second they got inside, Freddie flung his jacket onto the sofa, turning to glare at Roger, hands on his hips.

“ _ Well?  _ Care to explain why you and Miami  _ lied  _ to me?” Freddie demanded.

“Maybe we should go,” Brian suggested weakly, edging back towards the door. 

“Don’t bother.” Freddie just kept glaring at Roger. “No, come on Blondie,  _ tell me.  _ You lied to me. What, did you think I couldn’t handle it? I’m not that fucking fragile, Roger!”

“I know you’re not,” Roger said, and he could admit he sounded desperate.

“Then  _ why?  _ You know I hate being lied to! I can  _ handle  _ it, Roger! Just because I’m pregnant, just because I’m an Omega, doesn’t mean I’m fucking fragile!”

“I know!”

“Then fucking  _ why? _ ”

_ “Because I can’t handle it!” _

That seemed to throw Freddie; his glare faltered, and Roger, exhausted, his mind in a whirl, collapsed onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t handle it,” he repeated, mindless of Brian and Deacy’s stares. “I couldn’t...I couldn’t watch them do that to you again, I just  _ couldn’t.  _ I’d never seen you so scared before, Freddie. Fuck’s sake, you were panicking the entire week leading up to that ‘shoot and the way those bastards treated you made me  _ sick.  _ If I had to watch an entire room of Alphas treating you like a  _ toy  _ again, I’d fucking lose it. _I_ can’t handle it, okay!?”

It was horribly silent.

Cautiously, Roger looked up. Freddie was staring at him; one hand rested on his stomach and he looked seconds away from crying. 

“...Why?” he asked quietly.

“I just told you-”

“Why can’t you handle it?” 

Roger froze.  _ Tell him,  _ he thought.  _ You have to tell him.  _ He swallowed, trying to force the words out, but when he opened his mouth he only managed a strangled whimper.

“Why can’t you handle it?” Freddie repeated.

He still couldn’t get the words out. Freddie was looking increasingly impatient; Brian and Deacy looked torn between fascination and the urge to flee.

As the silence continued, Freddie’s face crumpled.

“Forget it,” he muttered, turning away.

“I love you!”

Freddie froze, looking back at him in shock, but now that he’d said it, Roger couldn’t seem to stop. “I love you,” he repeated, standing up. “I love you, Jesus Christ,  _ I love you. _ ”

“Oh, holy shit,” Deacy breathed. Roger didn’t look away from Freddie; Freddie with his ruffled hair and painted nails, Freddie in his flowing blue ‘maternity’ shirt; tiny, nerves-of-steel Freddie, who easily had the most beautiful eyes Roger had ever seen.  _ Freddie, _ who stormed over, grabbed Roger’s face in his hands and kissed him roughly, deeply, holding on so tight that Roger stumbled back a step; his arms automatically wrapped around Freddie’s waist, pulling him in closer.

He wasn’t sure how long it was until they pulled away, but when they did, Freddie was beaming.

“I love you too,” he said softly.

_ “Finally!”  _ Brian and Deacy groaned; Roger flipped them off over his shoulder. Laughing, Freddie pressed his face against the crook of Roger’s neck.

And Roger couldn’t fathom ever letting him go.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian leaned down to whisper in Deacy’s ear, “You might need to stay in my room tonight.”

“We might need to stay out tonight,” Deacy said flatly- but his eyes were shining as he looked at their friends. Brian had to admit his heart swelled when he looked at them; he’d never seen either of them look quite so happy before.

Though he was sure Deacy had a point; knowing those two, it would be best to stay out of the flat tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They said it! Took them long enough 😉


	12. Paper Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Freddie 💕💕

** _“Tell me I'm your national anthem; ooh yeah, baby, bow down, makin' me so wild now. Tell me I'm your national anthem; sugar sugar, how now, take your body downtown. Red, white, blue's in the skies, summer's in the air and, baby, heaven's in your eyes. I'm your national anthem.” -National Anthem, _ ** **Lana Del Rey**

Roger had known Freddie wouldn’t just  _ drop  _ it. He knew they weren’t done discussing it.

He’d just hoped Freddie would wait until  _ tomorrow. _

They’d pushed Freddie and Deacy’s beds together at the start of the night, and now they lay together, sweaty and tangled, and the bedsheets were an utter mess  _ (sorry, Deacs.)  _ Freddie’s head lay on Roger’s chest, his arm thrown haphazardly over Roger, one of his legs pressed in between Roger’s own while Roger held him close, one hand tangled in Freddie’s hair, the other tracing absentmindedly up and down Freddie’s side, occasionally stroking across his stomach.

“We should clean up,” Roger eventually said reluctantly. He really didn’t want to move.

“Not yet,” Freddie mumbled, though he pushed himself up on his hands, leaning over Roger. He suddenly looked much more serious. “Rog, about earlier…”

“Yeah?” Roger asked with a sudden spike of dread; if Freddie told him he’d changed his mind, he didn’t love Roger after all, he might actually die here and now.

“You can’t keep secrets from me like that,” Freddie said firmly. “I mean it. I know you were trying to protect me, I know you- you had good intentions, but you  _ lied  _ to me, Rog. I’m not going to break if you tell me something bad happened, you  _ know  _ that. And...darling, it’s  _ Foster and Sheffield,  _ I  _ need  _ to know if they’re trying anything, especially if they’re trying to do something to  _ me  _ again. You can’t just keep me in the dark and hope I don’t find out. I need to know what’s going on.  _ Miami  _ knew and I didn’t. You didn’t even tell Brian or Deacy, but we  _ have  _ to know.  _ I  _ have to know.” He cupped Roger’s face in his hands, forcing him to keep eye contact. “Got it, darling?”

“Got it,” Roger sighed. His hand ran up Freddie’s arm to play with his hair again, twirling a strand around his finger. “I just...I’ve got two of you to protect now. I didn’t want to scare you or stress you out. You were a wreck last time, Freddie, and I  _ hated  _ it. I couldn’t do anything to stop it, but I could this time so- so I did, you know? I never want to see you that scared again.”

“You won’t,” Freddie said; Roger gently tugged on him and he smiled as he allowed Roger to shift him onto his lap instead. “We had the upper hand on them this time darling. Let’s  _ keep  _ it that way. I’ve enough people acting like I’m helpless without adding you onto that list.”

“...Okay,” Roger said, albeit somewhat reluctantly, because he was meant to look after Freddie, not stress him out even more.

But he wasn’t stupid enough to throw all this away because of his pride. Communication. He could do that. He knew damn well Freddie would kick his ass and never forgive him otherwise. He wasn’t about to risk that.

“Good,” Freddie said with a happy little nod. He lay back down, peering up at Roger through the thick curtain of his hair, pouting exaggeratedly. “You’re still not entirely off the hook, darling.”

“Are you kidding me?” Roger laughed.

“Not at all,” Freddie said with a smile. “You lied. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“I can think of a few ways…” Roger’s hand drifted back down to Freddie’s ass but with a huff of laughter, Freddie twisted away, crawling off the bed.

“Hm, no,” Freddie smirked over his shoulder. “We have to wash up, remember?” he asked, throwing Roger’s words back at him. He didn’t even grab his housecoat, or anything to cover himself; he simply pranced to the bedroom door.

“Fred, Brian and Deacy are home!” Roger hissed; he hopped off the bed, grabbing a spare blanket off the floor. He tried to wrap it around Freddie who was looking increasingly amused.

“They left an hour ago, love,” Freddie said; he opened the door, dropping the blanket, and made his way to the bathroom. “And it’s nothing they haven’t seen before anyway.”

“Wait, they  _ did? _ ” Roger asked, hurrying after him. Sure enough, the door to his and Brian’s room was hanging open- the light was off and there was no sign of Brian and Deacy. The flat was eerily silent. “Huh...I didn’t even hear them.”

Freddie snorted, eyes brightening.

“Well, Rog, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 1st** ** _   
_ ** ** _“Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night. (Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright. Three times 'cause you waited your whole life. (One, two, one two three four!) I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings, uh huh, that's right. Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.” -Paper Rings, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

It had been the best week they’d had in a while, Brian mused. Roger and Freddie were now sharing a room (with a new double bed) and were currently flat-hunting (which he admittedly felt a little bereft about; it would feel strange not living together anymore),  _ and... _ Well, now they were together at long bloody last.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Roger so  _ happy,  _ and the same went for Freddie. They’d been fake-dating since they first met Reid, so to outsiders they didn’t seem any different, but Brian  _ knew  _ them. He lived with them. He saw the differences.

All four of them were physically affectionate, but those two were curled up together more than ever. They were kissing without cameras around, they were sleeping together (and if Brian had bought earplugs that was his own business), they were...they were just  _ happier.  _ They’d always been close, but Brian swore it was like they could read each other’s minds now; one glance seemed to count as a whole conversation. They fell into this new pattern so easily, not questioning it at all. They were still best friends first, and somehow that was what Brian found the sweetest.

He was overjoyed for them, and still a little smug about being right. 

To top it all off, Sheffield and Foster had actually been behaving; that was perhaps the biggest surprise. They’d given Roger and Freddie the money for a start, which Brian had been  _ sure  _ they’d try to get out of doing. They’d arranged another interview with the BBC, but for once they’d actually checked with Reid (who in turn, checked with them) if the boys were even available for it.

They were.

After last time he wasn’t looking forward to it, but he could grit his teeth and bear it. Besides, the interview wasn’t until the 7th.

Right now, Brian’s biggest concern was Freddie’s birthday, and what he should buy him- which, as luck would have it, was when Roger came barrelling into his (and now Deacy’s) room.

“Right, so, I have  _ most  _ of Freddie’s present,” Roger said abruptly. “But I’m pretty much out of ideas, so- wanna come shopping?”

“What a coincidence,” Brian said. “I haven’t even started.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian had always preferred shopping with someone else to help; he liked getting second opinions. Unless he was absolutely set on what to buy, he always found it handy having a second pair of hands and eyes around.

So far, Roger had already bought Freddie a new jacket with a fur trim he’d had his eyes on (“It’s  _ fake  _ fur, Brimi, quit frowning!”) and some cologne Kashmira had suggested. That sounded like enough to Brian, but Roger was insistent that he needed something else to top it all off.

Never let it be said that Roger Taylor did things half-assedly.

They were wandering through Kensington Market when Roger spotted it; a necklace in a shop window. A simple enough necklace really; the pendant was two cats, one black and one white, curled around each other in a mimicry of the yin and yang symbol, dangling on a thin silver chain.

“Oh!” Roger’s eyes lit up, a grin spread across his face; he practically flattened himself against the window. “Bri, do you  _ see  _ that!”

“I see it,” Brian smiled.

“It’s fucking perfect!”

Brian had to admit he was right; it was right up Freddie’s alley. Roger darted into the cramped shop, dragging Brian with him by the wrist; he was practically vibrating with excitement as he bought it.

From the smile on Roger’s face you’d have sworn he’d just discovered something priceless; he swaned out of the shop, strutting around the market happily.

“I still need to find him a present,” Brian pointed out.

“We will, don’t worry,” Roger said, still beaming. 

“You know, I could buy something for Peanut if you tell me the gender,” Brian wheedled; he smiled. Roger smirked, elbowing him.

“Nice try, Brimi.”

“Worth a shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of filler, really, but at least it's some fluff for you all. Thanks for reading! 💜


	13. Tiny Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Freddie's birthday; their friends are still trying to the guess the baby's gender, and the boys have an interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've bad news: my nanny died in the early hours of Saturday morning. As far as we can tell she just collapsed, though the coroner should be getting back to us today about that. There's a lot of angst coming up in this story, which I'm really not in the right mind-set to write about at the moment. So I'm just gonna...take a few days to try get my head on straight I guess?

**September 5th** **   
** ** _“You take me over you're the magic in my veins, this must be love. Boom, clap! _ ** ** _The sound of my heart, the beat goes on and on, and on and on and- boom, clap! You make me feel good. Come on to me, come on to me now.” -Boom Clap, _ ** **Charlie XCX**

Their cramped apartment really wasn’t the best place for a big party; for once, even Freddie agreed to keep things small, if only because the baby was draining his energy but then Elton offered to throw the party at his house (read: insisted they throw the party at his house.)

On strict orders from Brian, Elton had (with Bernie’s supervision) kept things relatively small. There was their pack, of course, along with Mary, Chrissie and Veronica; Kashmira was invited, though they’d kept this party from Jer and Bomi. All in all, even though Freddie couldn’t drink, everyone else  _ could,  _ and Elton’s parties were pretty notorious for getting out of hand. Best leave the conservative couple  _ away  _ from all that.

Then of course there was Bernie, Clare Taylor had gotten an invitation, and there were a few other artists that mostly just wanted a drink and an excuse to get a look at Freddie’s bump.

Still, Roger had to hand it to Elton, it was one hell of a party. There was non-stop food and drink, the cake was  _ huge;  _ four tiers all in different flavours with bright yellow icing. The DJ was great and the bright, over-the-top decorations were right up Freddie’s alley. For whatever reason there was a bunch of balloons floating in the pool, as well as what appeared to be a sex doll lounging on one of the deck chairs, and he couldn’t quite tell if that was on purpose or not. Neither could Bernie, who only shrugged helplessly.

“It’s Elton,” he said, which admittedly  _ did  _ explain everything. They both glanced to the side, where Elton was positively  _ losing it  _ over Freddie’s bump.

“You’re looking further along than four months. Barely four months, even!” Elton said; he had both hands on the bump and was absolutely beaming with joy. “I can’t get over it, love,  _ look  _ at you!”

“I’m huge, darling, I know,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes- but he was smiling. Elton shook his head.

“You look fantastic,” he said firmly. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He turned to Roger and Bernie with a grin. “Isn’t he gorgeous, boys?”

“Beautiful,” Roger agreed instantly, though he may have been biased. Freddie had straightened his hair as per usual, wearing it in a simple half-up half-down style; he was wearing one his new (and current favourite) loose smock tops, a deep purple one with short, lace sleeves. He had repainted his nails and had thrown on a few gold bangles. So yes, Roger agreed he looked amazing. He looked perfect.

“You do look great, Fred,” Bernie said, raising his glass in a salute. “Honestly.”

“Thanks, darlings,” Freddie said with a small smile. He looked back at Elton and raised an eyebrow. “Now, dear,  _ why  _ is there a sex doll by the pool?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Tiny dancer in my hand. But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near, and only you, and you can hear me. When I say softly, slowly...Hold me closer, tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen, you've had a busy day today. Hold me closer, tiny dancer.” -Tiny Dancer, _ ** **Elton John**

Of course, the pile of presents was huge. There were clothes, some make-up, different colognes, shoes, records, a record player, a new camera, jewelry, art supplies, cat things, baby things…

“You still haven’t said if it’s a boy or a girl,” Bernie said with a sheepish smile as Freddie unwrapped a yellow blanket with a teddy bear pattern. “Yellow seemed neutral enough, you know?”

“It’s  _ adorable,  _ I  _ love  _ it!” Freddie all but squealed.

He wasn’t the only one to buy something for Peanut; Clare had bought a toy bunny and a brightly coloured rattle.

“Just going to put it out there,” she said, staring Freddie and Roger down. “I want a niece.”

Neither of them so much as twitched.

“...I was hoping you’d react,” she admitted with a scowl.

“Nope,” Roger said with a smug grin. “We’re keeping quiet for now, and you have Brian and Deacy to thank for that with all their meddling.”

“But we were  _ right! _ ” Brian protested.

“You were still nosy,” Roger said. Freddie shrugged, still holding onto the blanket.

“It’s your own fault, darlings.”

“Please?” Deacy pouted; his eyes even watered. Freddie quickly looked away.

“Don’t fall for it, Fred,” Roger said, thrusting his presents into Freddie’s arms. “Do  _ not  _ fall for it.”

Thankfully the presents provided a distraction; Freddie clearly loved the jacket (and laughed when Brian once more frowned over the fur lining), he smiled appreciatively at the cologne, and threw Kashmira a knowing glance, but his eyes lit up when he saw the necklace.

“Rog, it’s beautiful,” he said, beaming.

“More cats,” Elton laughed.

Freddie immediately went to put the necklace on, struggling with the delicate clasp, trying to keep his hair out of the way.

“Here,” Roger said, gently holding Freddie’s hair aside. “I’ll get it.” He had the necklace in place in seconds, smiling as the pendant swayed against Freddie’s chest. Their eyes locked and Roger leaned in to kiss him, cheerfully flipping off the cat-callers.

“You do look gorgeous,” Roger whispered when they pulled back. “Elton wasn’t joking.”

“You have to say that,” Freddie said with a teasing smile. “You’re the reason I’m fat.”

He could  _ feel  _ his smile turning smug as he looked Freddie up and down. “Yeah,” he said happily. “I am.”

“ _ Christ, _ you’re such an Alpha sometimes, Roggie.”

“An Alpha that has every intention of fucking you into the mattress later,” Roger said smugly. Freddie raised an eyebrow, folding his arms.

“Oh, do you?”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Chrissie asked.

“Nothing!” was the hurried response. Freddie reached for the next present, throwing a smirk at Roger over his shoulder. He leaned against Roger as he opened it, and Roger leaned down to whisper, “Love you, Fred.”

Freddie’s smirk softened into a smile as he squeezed Roger’s hand.

“I love you too, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**BBC Studios, September 7th** **   
** ** _“So what are you after? Don't you like my colours? I'm confident, I know it scares you, scares you. Bye-bye, good riddance, the rules have been rewritten. I'm better without you, and that's the truth, I'm not part of your agenda.” -Agenda, _ ** **Emma Blackery**

Freddie eyed the pile of medicine with a scowl; aspirin, ibuprofen, those stupid vitamins that tasted God-awful,  _ Xanax  _ of all bloody things, surely that was overkill? He felt less anxious on them, but he still felt annoyed about it; he hadn’t needed anxiety medication since he was thirteen. Why did he need an entire pharmacy’s worth of help to carry a baby? He’d expected to be in pain, but not like  _ this.  _

His head was throbbing so hard he had to squint; the light was killing him. All the same, he turned away from the medication with an impatient huff. He’d ride this one out, he was sick of taking so many pills.

Still, he reluctantly grabbed some to take with him to the BBC today; the last thing he needed was for this to develop into a full on migraine on live TV.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Their interviewer was a Beta man, one they’d seen before, named Anthony. He was tall and chubby with thick (albeit greying) brown hair.

“First things first,” he said with a slightly awkward smile. “I feel I should...apologise for the last time you were here, boys.”

That was a surprise. Freddie wondered if Anthony had been authorised to say that or not.

“Thank you,” he said warily. He wasn’t exactly relaxed about this; he didn’t want to sit here and listen to more slut-shaming or passive aggressive bullshit. To his surprise, there was none of that; Anthony was respectful enough. When Freddie and Roger declined to answer any baby questions he didn’t push it.

“I hear you’ve been ill, Freddie?” he asked, and he  _ did  _ look concerned. “I don’t want to stress you any further, but we’re all wondering about the gender and due date.”

“I’d prefer to keep that private for now,” Freddie said firmly.

Anthony nodded and changed the topic to their living situation; “Any plans to find your own place, boys?”

Freddie could see the smug gleam in Roger’s eyes; hell, even Brian and Deacy looked amused as they all remembered the scene in Sheffield’s office. God, Freddie wished he’d brought his camera to that meeting. The look on Sheffield and Foster’s faces had been priceless.

“We’re looking,” Roger said smoothly. “Gotta find the perfect place, you know?”

Anthony nodded with a small smile. “Excited, Roger?”

“About the baby? Of course.”

“Are you hoping for an Alpha, Beta or Omega?” Anthony asked- and Freddie blinked in surprise. Honestly, it wasn’t something he’d thought about. He’d been more caught up on  _ Do I want a boy-or-girl?  _ The dynamic didn’t really bother him…

Though if he was totally honest with himself, he knew life would be easier for this baby if they were a Beta or Alpha. If they were an Alpha they’d have such an easy life. If they were an Omega...He shuddered at the thought of his baby having to go through  _ any  _ of what Freddie went through. He could practically hear his grandparents’ rants about modesty and an Omega’s  _ proper role  _ from here.

“Well, we won’t need to worry about that until they hit puberty,” Roger said with a shrug, though Freddie could hear the faint surprise in his voice and supposed it hadn’t occurred to Roger either. Though surely there  _ were  _ parents who hoped for a certain dynamic? He knew his parents had expected him to be an Alpha or Beta, but that was because their whole family consisted of Alphas and Betas. But what had they  _ hoped  _ for?

The baby gave a sudden sharp kick, so harsh that Freddie's hands went to his stomach.

"Oh, is the baby kicking?" Anthony asked brightly. Freddie nodded, holding back a wince at the sudden _twisting _feeling. He leaned against Roger as it slowed to a stop, barely listening to what was being said. He certainly wasn't in the mood to discuss how often the baby kicked to the whole _nation, _thank you.

Thankfully, they switched to talking about the album, who they’d first broken the news of the pregnancy to, any planned photoshoots…Well, by now they thankfully had more ideas for the album; Deacy had shyly admitted to them that he wanted to write a song for Veronica. This was their last album with EMI, this was their ticket to freedom; it needed to be their best yet. They needed to show off what they could do, they needed to be bigger and better than ever.

Foster wanted another song like  _ Killer Queen,  _ they knew that. But no. They could do even  _ better  _ than that, Freddie was sure of it.

Of course, there was the added factor of  _ How do I record an album with a baby around?  _ but he’d figure it out. He always did.

(And if the idea of bringing the baby to a recording session just to laugh at people’s faces made him smile, well...That was his own business.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back in a while, I guess? Thanks, guys 💜


	14. City Of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes crashing down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a miscarriage tag, guys...so, trigger warning for miscarriage up ahead.
> 
> This is partially based on fact; both my mom and one of her best friends have nearly identical stories: they got to four months and at the scan were told there was no heartbeat detected. My mom was bleeding, so they knew right away. But her friend didn't bleed, so she was told to wait two days and come back.
> 
> I am feeling...somewhat better? This was a little cathartic in a way. The priest doing the funeral was actually one of my nanny's best friends since they were kids- you don't expect to laugh at a funeral, but he had some great stories.

**September 9th** **  
** ** _“Hope went away as a smile turn to tears, now there's lines on the face of the girl with the stars in her eyes. Sing me a symphony, one for the lost and in between; city of fallen dreams, city of angels.” -City Of Angels, _ ** **Arrows To Athens**

The problem is, there’s never really any great signs, or catastrophes leading up to things like this. No tragedies. No accidents. Nothing that Freddie could point at and say “That’s what caused it.”

Not at first anyway. Not for a while.

It was just another appointment. He was twisting the cat necklace around his fingers absentmindedly. All he was thinking about was what plans they had for dinner and did he have to call his mother today?

But then he saw Atwood’s smile falter. She’d turned on the speakers, but the room stayed silent. He felt a flicker of unease as she stared at the screen, looking at every angle; she didn’t start to smile again. If anything she looked frightened.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked sharply. “Do you see something?”

“Not what you expect to see at four months,” she murmured.

“What does that mean?” Freddie asked, twisting the necklace tighter. Atwood cleared her throat and stood, smoothing down her skirt.

“I’ll be right back, boys,” she said, not looking at them. She left quickly. It almost looked like fleeing.

“Oh God, what’s going on?” Roger groaned; he looked sick. Freddie kept twisting the necklace, peering at the screen, at the blurry black and white image of the baby.

The longer they sat there, in the silence, the more the panic grew. 

And it hit him then: _ silence. _Atwood had turned the speakers on. They should have been able to hear the baby’s heartbeat. The more he looked, the more it dawned on him that he couldn’t see any movement on the screen. Dread washed over him; for a moment, everything blurred, the room spun. He couldn’t hear a heartbeat. He couldn’t see any movement. 

It hit him like a tonne of bricks that he hadn’t felt the baby move since the BBC. There’d been that sharp kick, that sickening twisting feeling…

_ That wasn’t just a kick, was it? _Freddie thought bleakly. But he hadn’t bled. He should have, shouldn’t he? Wasn’t that how it worked?

He clutched Roger’s hand, and Atwood came back in with a tall Alpha doctor behind her, an older man with thinning hair. Neither of them smiled; Atwood wouldn’t look at them. She was pale, her hands were shaking. The man behind her looked at them with obvious pity.

Roger squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt and Freddie braced himself, every fibre of his being preparing to deny what he already knew.

  
  
  
  


** _“There are moments that the words don't reach. There is suffering too terrible to name. You hold your child as tight as you can, and push away the unimaginable. The moments when you're in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.” -It’s Quiet Uptown, _ ** **Hamilton**

It didn’t feel real. None of it. Roger expected to wake up; this was all just a nightmare, just a stupid nightmare. He’d wake up any moment now.

But he didn’t.

He wanted to throw up as this new doctor, Doctor Abraham Waters, explained what had happened. As he explained what _ would _happen.

“We’ll have to remove it,” he said gently.

“Our baby isn’t an _ it, _” Roger snarled, clutching Freddie tightly. His boyfriend had his eyes closed, shaking all over. He didn’t cry, but Roger felt seconds away from doing so himself.

And now, at the end of it all, he was stuck sitting in a hospital room by Freddie’s bedside. Freddie was still unconscious; a small part of Roger supposed that was for the best. His stomach...It was suddenly much flatter. Even unconscious he looked pale and clammy, like he was ill. Just like that, the glow was gone.

Just like that, their baby was gone.

Roger couldn’t stand it. How could he be expected to just _ sit _here? 

_ My baby’s dead, _ he thought. _ Our baby’s dead. _

“Roger?” Atwood poked her head around the door, her face tragic. She glanced at Freddie and winced, opening the door fully. She took a cautious step inside. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “I know this is hard-”

“Get out,” Roger hissed, standing up. He looked at her and, suddenly, he just _ hated _ her. She was their doctor, she was meant to _ help. _ She was meant to make sure this all went well, she was supposed to help keep Freddie and the baby _ safe. _ How could she stand there and claim to know anything? She _ should _ be sorry, this was _ her fucking fault. _

“Roger, I just-”

_ “I said GET OUT!” _ He grabbed the nearest object, a small table lamp, and aimed it at her head, prepared to throw it. _ “GET THE FUCK OUT!” _

She was smart enough to run.

Sobbing, Roger collapsed back onto his seat, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t possibly do this alone.

Struggling to see past his tears, he ran into the hall, down to the payphone. He waited, biting the back of his hand as it rang.

And then, thank God, came Brian’s voice.

“Hello?”

Just like that, Roger was sobbing again. “Br-Brimi…”

“Roger?” Brian’s voice raised, made sharp with fear. “Roger, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No,” Roger said. “You...You and D-Deacy need to get- get down here. Please, I- I can’t do this on my own.”

“Rog, what’s-?”

_ “Please.” _

“...Okay,” Brian said quietly. “Okay, we’ll, uh- we’ll be there as fast as we can. Rog, I-”

Roger hung up, unable to listen any further. He was still crying, struggling for breath; ignoring the shocked stares and whispers of passers-by, he went back to Freddie.

  
  
  
  


Brian knew. There was only one reason Roger would call him, crying like that. Christ, when was the last time he’d seen Roger cry?

Roger had taken the van, so he and Deacy were stuck with the bus. Fighting back panic, Brian clung to Deacy’s hand. The Beta’s eyes were already teary as he slouched in his seat.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I think so,” Brian was forced to admit. The lump in his throat just kept growing and he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t do any good; the tears still escaped.

  
  
  
  


Roger took one look at them, sobbed, and flung himself into Brian’s arms.

“I’m sorry, Rog,” Brian said, holding him tightly. Deacy joined the hug, finally crying openly. “I’m so, _ so _sorry.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Roger gasped; he was clinging to Brian so tightly it hurt, his nails digging into Brian’s skin. “I just- this can’t be fucking happening, this isn’t _ fair. _”

No, it wasn’t. If Brian was honest he couldn’t believe it either.

He looked at Freddie over the top of Roger’s head; their resident Omega was still out cold, oldly flat now and it turned Brian’s stomach. This shouldn’t be happening. Neither Freddie or Roger deserved this. 

Sniffling, wiping at his eyes, Deacy went to Freddie’s side. He sat in one of the rickety plastic chairs and took Freddie’s hand, holding it between both of his. He pressed a kiss to Freddie’s knuckles, his breath hitching again, letting out a weak sob.

“This isn’t fair,” Roger repeated, face pressed against Brian’s shoulder.

“It’s not,” Brian agreed, hard pressed to keep from crying again. “It’s- fuck, Rog, _ I’m sorry. _”

That was how a young nurse found them; Roger sobbing almost hysterically in Brian’s arms, Brian crying silently into Roger’s hair, and Deacy crying and gasping as he held onto Freddie’s hand.

“Alpha Taylor?” she asked cautiously. Roger pulled away from Brian, turning to face her. 

“Yeah?”

“Doctor Waters needs to speak with you,” she said. Roger nodded and, with obvious reluctance, followed her. He glanced back at Brian and Deacy; he looked at Freddie and wavered, clutching the door frame.

“We’ll stay with him,” Brian promised; Roger nodded and left.

Perhaps foolishly, all Brian could think was _ Alpha Taylor. _ It was such an old fashioned way to address someone, and that girl had barely looked older than Deacy, bright eyed and rosy cheeked. It was how his parents addressed some people, how his _ grandparents _addressed people.

But what did that _ matter? _What did that matter at all?

He staggered to the bed, collapsed into one the chairs and did his damn best to sort himself out.

Not that it did much good.

  
  
  
  


Waters looked shame-faced when Roger came in; he held a file in one hand and tapped his desk with the other.

“I’ve been looking over your Omega’s files,” he said, gesturing for Roger to take a seat. “It says here he’s been on constant medication?”

“Yeah,” Roger said. “The first dose didn’t work, so Atwood changed it.”

“And added more,” Waters said. Roger nodded. Waters sighed, opening the file, flipping through it.

“I...I’m afraid Doctor Atwood made a terrible mistake,” he said slowly; Roger’s fists clenched, his chest grew tight with dread. He didn’t want to hear this, but Waters continued regardless; “Aspirin, ibuprofen, some of these vitamins and Xanax...They’re not _ safe _during pregnancy, and certainly not in this dosage. The risks are too great; birth defects, health issues for the carrier and baby, stillbirths...And miscarriages. Such medication should have been changed as the pregnancy progressed- at the least, the first dosage was the safest. It didn’t work right away to be sure, but they needed time to kick in.”

“She changed them right away,” Roger said numbly. “When Freddie mentioned he was still getting sick all the time...She just upped the dose…”

“I’m sorry, Mr Taylor,” Waters said gently. 

“So this _ is _ Atwood’s fault.”

“She made a mistake.”

“But _ she’s _ not the one who has to deal with the consequences,” Roger growled, suddenly vicious, suddenly furious all over again. He had a target. “I do. Freddie does. Our families do. _ She _gets away scott-fucking-free!”

“Mr Taylor-”

“Or am I wrong? Do I get to sue over this? Does she lose her job? Does _ anything _happen to her?”

Waters’s silence was enough of an answer.

“Fuck you,” Roger spat. “Fuck the whole lot of you.”

He stood so quickly that his chair fell sideways; he slammed the door behind him, huffing triumphantly when he heard something fall off the wall.

The brief sense of victory only lasted until he reached the lift; as it took him back to Freddie’s floor, despair washed over him again. He could be as angry as he wanted, he could break whatever he wanted, he could yell until his voice gave out...But what would it really accomplish?

_ “You can’t fight all your problems away,” _Brian had told him again and again throughout the years. He’d never really understood that until now.

  
  
  
  


** _“Every time I try to fly I fall, without my wings I feel so small. I guess I need you, baby. And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face, it's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby.” -Everytime, _ ** **Britney Spears**

It was the longest drive home ever.

Brian drove, Deacy sat with him in the front; in the back, Roger held Freddie close. As soon as the doors had closed, Freddie had burst into tears and nothing Roger did or said seemed to calm him. He’d stopped sobbing, but he was still _ crying, _still shaking and occasionally gasping, and Roger couldn’t stand it.

It was, logically, not a very long drive, especially with such light traffic, but it felt like _ years _passed before they reached their flat. Brian pulled to a stop and they all sat there silently, none of them willing to move. 

Freddie twisted his necklace around his fingers, biting his lip and wiping uselessly at his eyes. Roger held onto him, unwilling to let go for even a second. He couldn’t summon the strength to just open the door and climb out. Simple enough task. It suddenly felt impossible. 

Finally, Deacy sighed and hopped out of the van. He pulled the back door open and held his hand out to Freddie, who looked at him blankly for one long moment. Finally, he wiped at his eyes again and took Deacy’s hand, allowing the Beta to help him out of the van. 

That was the cue for Roger and Brian to follow. Gritting his teeth, Roger got out of the van, instantly enveloping Freddie back into his arms. He let Deacy and Brian wrap an arm around them both; he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, and made his way inside.

  
  
  
  


Freddie went straight to their room; Roger followed with Brian and Deacy at his heels.

Freddie had barely said a word since he woke up. He was still quiet now; he kicked his shoes off and collapsed onto the bed, curling up small. Roger curled up behind him, spooning him. His hands automatically rested on Freddie’s stomach, but Freddie smacked them away, guiding them up to his chest instead.

Brian lay in front of Freddie, letting the Omega bury his face in Brian’s neck and Deacy spooned Roger. It was the first cuddle pile they’d had in a few weeks, and it just wasn’t what Roger wanted. Not these circumstances. Not like this.

Despite himself, it helped. He could breathe a little easier, surrounded by his pack, his boys. He didn’t ever want to get up again, he didn’t see how he _ could. _How could he just...behave normally after this? Yet having his boys around him, clinging together, helped.

And then Freddie spoke in a hoarse little whisper; “It was a boy.”

Roger’s heart twisted and Brian sniffled before he asked, “Huh?”

“It was a boy,” Freddie repeated flatly, but he was shaking. “Rog wanted to name him Heydar.”

“I like that name,” Deacy said, his voice cracking. Roger could feel his tears soaking into the back of his neck.

“Me too,” Freddie said- and just like that, he was sobbing again, nearly screaming in anguish.

Roger’s grip on him tightened, holding Freddie as close as he could, failing to keep his own sobs at bay; Brian hushed them uselessly, running his hand through Freddie’s hair.

“It’ll be okay,” Brian said helplessly.

“But it’s _ not, _ ” Freddie sobbed. “Not _ now. _”

No, it wasn’t. Roger tried to imagine getting up and making dinner, and drew a blank. He tried to imagine waking up tomorrow and going about his day and he couldn’t.

For now, he let himself cry; wrapped in Deacy’s arms, pressing his face against Freddie’s shoulder, he let it out.

“I hate this,” Freddie said, slightly muffled by Brian’s chest; his fellow Alpha was still making comforting noises, looking as lost as Roger felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY, you guys have all been so nice that I nearly changed the plot entirely- but PLEASE keep in mind that there IS a childbirth tag too, and a happy ending one. I promise, things will get better and they WILL have a baby eventually; the gender, name, dynamic and career of this kid are all picked out. Happy endings only in this series.
> 
> (For my birthday tomorrow does anyone wanna get me a time machine to Live Aid, pretty please?)


	15. Hold Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's not doing well; Jer and Winifred arrive to look after their sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the angst will not last forever, but I'm not going to just fast-forward to the end of this; as with Pushing Through The Darkness this will take some time, but I also promise it's not pure angst up ahead. We have some comfort and happy moments coming too.

** _“Your dreams and memories are blurring into one; the scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone. You'll come undone. Oh, you go to sleep on your own, and you wake each day with your thoughts, and it scares you being alone. It's a last resort.” -Sleepsong, _ ** **Bastille **

Roger expected an outburst. He expected Freddie to scream and cry, or maybe break something. But as he shakily explained what Doctor Waters had told him, as he reluctantly told the truth, Freddie just stared at him blankly. 

“Freddie?” Brian took his hand. It was obvious he hadn’t slept a wink either. “Fred, are you...Are you okay?”

Wordlessly, Freddie pulled away. He stood up, not looking at any of them, and went back to their room.

“Shit,” Roger groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You had to,” Deacy said gently. And yeah, Roger knew he had to tell Freddie the truth, but...But he’d expected an outpouring of emotion, he hadn’t expected _ silence. _Freddie had been so still and silent that, for a moment, Roger was worried Freddie hadn’t understood.

Then he heard sobbing coming from their room and his heart shattered all over again.

All three of them stood, but one pleading look from Roger kept Brian and Deacy away.

“Just...Let me handle it,” he said; he didn’t sound confident, he didn’t feel it, but he went ahead alone.

  
  
  
  
  


Freddie wanted to die. The ground could open up and swallow him right this second and he wouldn’t care. He’d welcome it.

It was his fault. He’d complained about the meds but he’d taken them anyway. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d still gone along with it. If he hadn’t needed so much medication in the first place this wouldn’t have happened. He should have just put a brave face on things, he should have grinned and bore it. Plenty of people did every day. If he hadn’t been such a fucking _ weakling, _if he’d just gotten on with things...If he’d just stopped taking the meds for a little while...Maybe if he’d put his foot down…

The next thing he knew, he was crying again, sobbing so hard he choked on his own breath.

He’d forgotten to lock the door; he should have, because there was Roger, cradling him close and trying to calm him down, when all he wanted was to be alone. Why did Roger come after him, why did he bother? He should have been furious.

_ Your fault, your fault, this is all your fault. _

“I’m sorry,” Freddie gasped out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t,” Roger said. “No, Fred, it’s- it’s not your fault, _ none _of it. It was Atwood.”

_ He’s lying. It’s your fault. You fucked up, you killed your baby; your baby’s dead because of you. He’ll hate you now, and who can blame him? _

Freddie clutched at his own hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted his brain to shut up, he wanted everything and everyone to go away. They were meant to go shopping for baby things soon, but they couldn’t do that anymore and that was _ his fault, his fault, it was all his fucking fault. _

_ I shouldn’t have taken those meds, _ he thought, despairing. _ I should have thrown them all away. _

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, mostly on autopilot. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Roger just kept saying that it wasn’t Freddie’s fault; he insisted it was all Atwood’s fault, the fault of the entire damn _ hospital, _that no-one realised those medications shouldn’t have been mixed sooner.

“It’s not your fault,” Roger said firmly, but there were tears in his eyes. Freddie wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Roger cry until this happened. 

Somehow, that made it worse.

When Freddie only looked at him silently, Roger’s face became creased with panic.

“Freddie?” He cupped Freddie’s face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you’re listening, right? It’s not your fault.”

But for the first time ever, Freddie didn’t believe him.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“So we'll just cry, cry on each other's shoulders. Cry until it's over. Can't it just be over? And we'll just cry, cry, cry until it's all gone; been holding on for too long.” -Cry, _ ** **Jason Walker**

He didn’t leave his room again. He didn’t see the point. He lay in bed, curled up in a ball, staring at the wall. Deacy brought him lunch and he had to force himself to eat it. What was the _ point? _

Freddie could almost convince himself it was a nightmare. It didn’t _ feel _real, not really. He felt sluggish; he felt like he was standing outside his body, staring at himself. Maybe it hadn’t fully sunk in yet? His hands kept going to his stomach out of habit, waiting for a kick- and every time he did, he felt like screaming. He wanted to get up and break something, scream and throw things until he collapsed of exhaustion.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to get up.

He could dimly hear the other three talking, though he couldn’t make out the words. He should probably go join them. He knew they had to tell...Well, everyone. They had to tell everyone what had happened. Every part of him recoiled from the thought; if Freddie had to listen to the press blame him, if he had to put up with his parents' pity and everyone else’s scorn, he might actually go insane.

Fuck it. Let the others handle it.

No, that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t just leave Roger to handle it all. It was Roger’s baby too, Freddie should be looking after him as well…

He still didn’t move.

  
  
  
  
  


Bless Brian’s heart; he handled the phone calls and had the sense to do so when Deacy and Roger were in the kitchen. He rang Reid, he rang the Bulsaras and he rang Winifred. Each time, it felt like he was getting stabbed; he didn’t go into all the details, God knew that wasn’t his place. He kept it brief and moved on, though he couldn’t dissuade Jer and Winifred from insisting they’d be over as soon as possible.

“I don’t know,” he said weakly, glancing warily towards the kitchen and down the hall at the closed bedroom door. “I...I don’t think they want company.”

“Nonsense,” Jer said briskly. “I’ll be there soon, just give me a while to sort things out over here, dear.”

As for Winifred, she didn’t even give him the chance; she just said “I’ll be there,” and hung up.

Sighing, head reeling with exhaustion, Brian went to the kitchen. Roger was staring at his cup of tea like he wasn’t quite sure how it had gotten there; Deacy had a small pot of soup cooking on the stove.

“Er...Jer and Winnie want to come over,” Brian said.

“Oh _ fuck. _” Roger rested his forehead on the table, defeat radiating off him. “No, tell them to fuck off.”

“I tried,” Brian said. “Well- I told them you didn’t want company.”

“I don’t want to see my mum yet,” Roger said, his voice cracking. “If I see her, I’ll start crying again. And Jer…”

“You’re worried she’ll make it worse,” Deacy guessed. Roger shrugged, but when he sat up straight again, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “She, uh...She has her moments…”

Didn’t Brian know it. She already believed Freddie was helpless; if she came over and saw him confined to his room she’d freak out- which was understandable, but he doubted Freddie would appreciate it. Brian wasn’t even sure if Freddie wanted her here. Would he start crying again or freak out?

And as for Roger, he looked like death warmed over; there were dark circles under his eyes, he kept drooping with exhaustion and it didn’t even look like he’d brushed his hair. He’d just thrown on an old tracksuit and was still barefoot.

“Maybe you should get dressed,” Brian suggested.

“You can say I look like shit, Bri,” Roger said with a wry smile. He shook his head, hauling himself to his feet. “Yeah, probably should...Fuck, I’ll hop in the shower, can one of you tell Fred they’re coming over?”

Brian glanced at Deacy; the Beta kept stirring the pot of soup, biting his lip nervously. So Brian shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking, said “I’ll do it,” and went to fetch Freddie.

  
  
  
  
  


To say Freddie was unimpressed would be an understatement. As Brian hesitantly explained that Jer and Winifred were coming, he scowled. He rolled onto his stomach _ (oh God, he could do that again), _ pressing his face into the pillow.

“I don’t care,” he said flatly. His throat still ached from all the crying. “I really don’t.”

“You don’t want to be in bed when your mum comes, do you?” Brian rested a hand on his shoulder. “Fred, you should get up.”

“I don’t care,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “I don’t _ fucking _ care.” Before he knew it, he was furious. Furious with Brian for calling her, furious with Jer for inviting herself over, he didn’t _ want _ to see her. She’d just baby him and shake her head; she’d talk to him like he was stupid and helpless, she may even avoid the topic entirely. _ Fuck, _he wasn’t in the mood. “Tell her not to bother.”

“She’s already on the way.”

“I’m not talking to her.” He glared at Brian over his shoulder; Brian was so startled he flinched back. “I don’t want to fucking see her, why did you call her!?”

“She’s your mum,” Brian said gently. Freddie shook Brian’s hand off his shoulder, burying his face in the pillow again.

“When has that ever mattered?” he snapped. A dim part of him knew he was being unfair; Brian was only trying to help, he’d only done what Freddie hadn’t wanted to do himself. Jer was trying more than she ever had before; once upon a time, Freddie wasn’t sure she’d even have turned up.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assumption either. He didn’t know. He didn’t _ care. _ He didn’t want to see _ anyone. _

“Go away, Brian,” he said. “I mean it, just fuck off.”

“Fred-”

“I said fuck off!”

Sighing, Brian left with one last “_ Please _just think about it.”

Fighting against the wave of anger in his chest, Freddie screamed into the pillow. He didn’t want to see Winifred, he didn’t want to see Jer; he didn’t want to see any of their friends, or Bomi, or Kash...He just wanted to be left alone today, just _ one _fucking day, was that too much to ask for?

But as the silence dragged on, the anger melted away; despair crept back in and he felt almost absurdly guilty for yelling.

_ Well done, now Brian will hate you too. _

Roger came in, soaking wet and wrapped in a towel.

“Er, did Brian tell you-?”

“He did,” Freddie said, looking away again.

“Oh…” He could practically feel Roger’s concerned gaze. He heard the little _ clicking _noises of the hangers knocking together as Roger went through the wardrobe. “Are you- are you okay with seeing them?”

“No,” Freddie said.

“Well- Fred, maybe if you get up for a bit it might help? A bath might help?”

_ Don’t be so stupid, _he thought. He went to say so, but when he glanced at Roger, his boyfriend looked perfectly desperate. 

_ He’s already pissed and you know it. Now Brian’s pissed too. Don’t push it. Just humour him, is that so hard? _

He sighed and nodded. “Maybe, darling.”

Though he didn’t believe that either.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“Waking up and letting go to the sound of angels. Am I alive or just a ghost haunted by my sorrows? Hope is slipping through my hands, gravity is taking hold, I said I'm not afraid that I'm brave enough. I will not give up until I see the sun. Hold me now ‘til the fear is leaving, I am barely breathing.” -Hold Me Now, _ ** **Red**

It had taken Roger literally taking Freddie by the hand and forcing him to sit up to get anywhere. He’d barely been able to look at the paternity clothes in the wardrobe, and he knew Freddie’s old jeans wouldn’t fit again just yet, so he grabbed a loose T-shirt and the paint stained leggings Freddie used to wear when he had a big assignment for college.

Thank God, when they got into the kitchen Freddie actually ate, even if it was just a tiny bowl of Deacy’s soup. He kept twisting the cat necklace around his fingers; he looked at Brian warily as their guitarist cleaned up. To Roger’s confusion he mumbled, “Sorry, Brimi.”

Brian gave a tired smile, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry for, mate,” he said.

Before Roger could ask any questions there was a knock at the door; Jer had arrived. Roger and Brian exchanged wary glances as Deacy went to answer the door. They heard Deacy offer to take her coat, they could hear her shoes tapping on the wooden floor and before Roger was ready to see her, there she was.

She stood sheepishly in the doorway, holding a tupperware box of cheese biscuits.

“Hello,” she said with a shaky smile. She set the food down and, to Roger’s shock, she hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Jer whispered. “If you need anything- well, you know where to find me, yes?” She smiled at him weakly; her eyes brimmed with tears when she turned to Freddie.

“My poor baby,” she said, enfolding him in her arms. “Darling, I’m sorry.”

Freddie didn’t move. He sat, staring at the table- but sudden tears streamed down his cheeks. He gasped, then sobbed- and the next thing Roger knew, Freddie was bawling his eyes out on Jer’s shoulder. She cooed and hummed in Gujarati, stroking his hair.

“I’m here,” she said, switching back to English. “I’m right here. Let it out, baby, it’s okay.”

It was enough to make Roger want to cry. Brian bustled about, making everyone cups of tea; Deacy held Roger’s hand tightly and, despite his previous misgivings, Roger suddenly desperately wanted his own mother.

He didn’t have to wait much longer. There was a frantic knocking on the door. Winifred didn’t wait for an answer; she burst in, ran straight to him and hugged him so hard she nearly knocked him off his chair.

“I got here as fast as I could,” she gasped, clearly out of breath. “Oh, sweetie, are you okay?”

“No,” Roger said- and sure enough, he was crying again. If he kept this up he’d be stuck with a migraine before long, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“It’s going to be alright,” Winifred said, resting her cheek on top of his head. “I’m right here. You leave today to me, Rog. You take as much time as you need.”

_ So, forever? _Roger thought, because he couldn’t see an end to this. How did you move on from this? Who could he even ask? 

  
For now though, he followed Winifred’s instructions; he let her (and Jer) take charge, obediently eating what they put in front of him, relieved to have the chance to simply _ not think _for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jer and Winifred will never be best friends, but they make a surprisingly good team.


	16. Deep In The Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has a plan to make Freddie smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some happier moments coming.

**October**   
** _“To your grave I spoke, holding a red, red rose. Gust of freezing cold air whispers to me you're gone. Spent a lifetime of holding on, just to let go; I guess I'll spend another lifetime searching for a new hope.” -A New Hope, _ ** **Broken Iris**

As the weeks passed it didn’t get any easier. It only seemed to get harder. Jer came over every second day, usually with food; it seemed to be the only food Freddie would eat. Otherwise he just stayed in their room with the covers pulled up over his head. 

Winifred came whenever she could; Kash usually popped in during the evenings and Bomi awkwardly stood around for a while, clearly at a loss for what to say. Even Brian’s mum popped by, hauling a huge container of casserole, as if all they needed to feel better was some dinner.

Then again, Roger could see where they were coming from; it wasn’t as if he was up to cooking, and he’d never been a great chef anyway. Brian and Deacy took over the kitchen, though they were distracted and cast-down too. No one was up to doing anything, really.

But as they entered October, Roger felt like a fog had been lifted; he wasn’t dazed anymore. He wasn’t sluggish. He still wasn’t  _ energetic  _ exactly, but he felt  _ pissed.  _ Sheer spite made him get out of bed; sheer spite made him go shopping, made him get dressed and look after himself. He called Miami, he called Reid, rather than letting Brian or Deacy handle it. This wasn’t going to break him; he’d been knocked down, he’d get back up. Because damn it all, this wasn’t his fault, or Freddie’s fault; this was Atwood’s fault. This was on her. She’d fucked up, but why should  _ they  _ pay the price?

To say he was angry when Miami confirmed there wasn’t much they could do, other than demand compensation, was a huge understatement. 

“I don’t want her  _ money, _ ” Roger spat. “I want her fired! Suspended!  _ Something! _ ”

“They’ll never allow it,” Miami said, and Roger could hear the regret in his voice. “You can sue for compensation- emotional damages- but they’ll never fire her.”

Logically, Roger knew that.

It didn’t stop him from smashing three plates before Brian could stop him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And then,  _ of fucking course,  _ came the call from Reid; Foster wanted to meet with them, to discuss any upcoming interviews and promotional work.

“We’re not doing any interviews,” Brian said tiredly. Roger could vaguely hear Reid’s voice on the other end of the line; it sounded like garbled humming from where he was sitting. Eventually, Brian sighed and said, “Yeah, okay,” before hanging up.

“He wants to see us tomorrow,” he said; like Roger, like Deacy, like Freddie, he looked worn-out. His curls were limp, he’d been biting at his lip and there were shadows under his eyes. His clothes were spick and span, he’d sprayed on some cologne, but it didn’t make him look any happier.

“Well he can fuck off,” Roger snapped. “I’m not talking to Foster, I’m not listening to his bullshit.” Also fully dressed and washed, he knew he still looked ill; he was still too pale and he knew he looked tired and droopy. He still wasn’t sleeping properly. 

“I’ll tell him that you and Fred aren’t up to it,” Brian offered. Deacy nodded; his long hair had been pulled back in a plait, which mostly hid how straggly and dull his hair was looking the last little while. He’d been biting at his nails though and there was no disguising that.

As for Freddie, he was still in their room; he’d refused lunch and only eaten a few mouthfuls of dinner. 

Roger was at a loss; it wasn’t like he could just throw Freddie over his shoulder and  _ make  _ him move. Tough love wouldn’t cut it, surely? But giving him his requested space had made things worse. Being gentle had gotten him nowhere; pleading and quiet requests did nothing. Freddie just ignored him.

That alone made up his mind; he’d have to call Miami back and tell him that actually, fuck it, he’d settle for suing over emotional damages. Atwood had to face  _ some  _ consequences. The idea that she’d just carry on after this made him sick; the knowledge that her bosses would just shrug their shoulders and forget about this made him want to scream. Because  _ this  _ wasn’t right; he’d never known Freddie to shut out the world like this. He knew Freddie had been depressed before they met, he’d been told the story enough times; Freddie had been like this before, but he’d never  _ seen  _ it. 

He’d call Miami tomorrow; for now he went to Freddie.

He’d opened the blinds and windows that morning, but it seemed Freddie had closed them again: the room was dim and stuffy, and Freddie was curled up in a little ball with the covers pulled up over his head.

“Freddie?” Roger sat next to him; he gently pulled the covers back, peering down at him. Out of the four of them, Freddie looked the worst, and he felt like an asshole for even thinking it, but it was true. He was still in his pyjamas, his hair was a tangled, unwashed mess; he’d bitten his lips ragged. When Roger pulled the covers back he frowned and tried to pull them back over his head, but Roger held on tight.

“Fred, no- come on,  _ listen.  _ I...I’m thinking...Maybe we should demand compensation after all.”

“Money’s not going to help,” Freddie sat flatly. “Heydar’s dead.”

“I know,” Roger said; his chest felt tight when he stopped to think about it. He constantly felt queasy, and he still couldn’t manage a full night’s sleep. And he had no doubt that Atwood, Waters,  _ anyone  _ involved was perfectly fine. Maybe even looking after another expecting (and unsuspecting) couple already. “But she needs to face  _ some  _ consequences. They- they all need to realise they can’t just...Just shrug their shoulders and say sorry. Why should  _ we  _ have to accept that?”

Freddie rolled over, mumbling something into the pillow.

“What was that, love?”

“I said it’s my own fault.” Freddie’s voice broke, and Roger’s heart with it. 

“No, it’s not-”

“I’m the one who took those stupid tablets.”

“Fred-”

“I didn’t want to take them and I did anyway!” Freddie finally sat up, glaring at him through his tangled hair. His hands were shaking and he looked torn between crying and screaming. “I’m the one who couldn’t just- just handle a little sickness and a few aches, I should have just-”

“Freddie, Christ, it wasn’t  _ little,  _ you were  _ sick. Really  _ sick. You were in pain, it wasn’t  _ mild. _ ” Roger grabbed him by the shoulders; despite Freddie’s struggles, he held on, pulling him closer. “So you needed help- a lot of people need help. Some people get ill during pregnancy, that’s not your fault! Freddie,  _ listen  _ to me- you couldn’t have  _ known.  _ Atwood should have, she’s the one who didn’t think to check the damn medication. We  _ both  _ trusted her, you could just as easily say it’s my fault.” And wasn’t that haunting him? He’d promised to protect Freddie, and he hadn’t. He’d trusted someone else, and look what happened. 

But Freddie didn’t blame him, he blamed himself. And Roger, finally working his way through a haze of grief, blamed Atwood.

He wouldn’t ever blame Freddie, how could he?

Freddie just shook his head, closing his eyes. “You’d be better off without me,” he whispered, so quietly that Roger barely head it.

But he did hear it- and it set alarm bells ringing.

“Jesus Christ,  _ no. _ ” He pulled Freddie against his chest, ignoring his startled yelp. He held on tight, suddenly terrified of letting him go. “No. No fucking way, I’d be- I’d be so completely fucked without you around. I  _ love  _ you, for God’s sake. You’re still my best friend, you  _ know  _ that, I-” He struggled to articulate it all. All he really knew, was that Freddie lit up any room he walked into. He knew they’d clicked, straight away. He knew that promising to protect him (despite Freddie’s protests) was the first good thing he’d ever done. Other than music, it was something  _ good  _ to focus his energy on. Rather than causing trouble, rather than just being ‘the angry one,’ he...He could actually look after someone. Because shockingly, Freddie, bright-eyed, stubborn Freddie,  _ believed  _ in him.

“I love you,” Roger repeated. “You’re the best person I know. I- I’d have no idea what to do if I didn’t have you, Fred. You’re  _ mine,  _ I’m  _ yours,  _ you…” He told the simple truth; “I need you.”

Freddie didn’t cry again, but he clung to him desperately, shaking like a leaf.

“Love you too, darling,” he mumbled against Roger’s chest. Roger didn’t let him go; if anything he held on tighter, his mind reeling; he felt choked, frightened.

He had to call Miami, but maybe he had to make another call too.

“I...I think we should talk to someone,” he said haltingly. “Like a...You know, a therapist or something.”

He expected Freddie to push him away. He expected a haughty “No way.” Instead, Freddie sighed.

“I suppose so.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“It's down to you and me in this cold and empty street, forgotten what we're living for. Just tell me what is right, ‘cause it's more than what's inside, ‘cause I can't see it anymore. All I see are kings and thieves, when all I own is just dust and gold.” -Dust And Gold, _ ** **Arrows To Athens**

The next day, shortly after lunch, Brian and Deacy went to EMI. Freddie curled up on the sofa with Ziggy; he’d eaten his cereal, but left the toast and, honestly, it was an improvement. 

He still looked like hell though; he’d tied his hair back, but it was obviously greasy. He was still in his pyjamas which were looking badly wrinkled now. If you asked Roger it was obvious he’d lost weight, what with how little he’d been eating, but he still didn’t really look like  _ himself.  _ It wasn’t like he’d magically snapped back to his old figure, and Roger had caught him poking his stomach and thighs with a scowl. Ziggy kept nudging Freddie whenever he did; it was like the cat  _ knew,  _ which kind of freaked Roger out- but it helped. It distracted Freddie, even if it was only brief. He cradled the purring old thing close, stroking his thick fur.

It was a step forward; at least Freddie was out of the bedroom and eating some more. At least the cat was making him smile.

Roger, stubborn as ever, had an idea. “Just gonna take a bath, Fred,” he called over his shoulder as he strolled down the hall.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. It just...Wasn’t  _ just _ for him. He went all out, using Freddie’s favourite bubble-bath and lit some scented candles. He grabbed Freddie’s favourite fluffy towel and put it on the radiator to keep it warm; he laid out Freddie’s yellow jumper and a pair of joggers on the bed, as well as the bright, fuzzy socks he kept stealing from Deacy. Darting back into the bathroom he made sure to find the nicest soap they had and, thank God, there was still plenty of Freddie’s favourite rose-scented shampoo.

He felt weirdly nervous as he went back to the living room; it wasn’t like he expected Freddie to be  _ offended  _ or something, but he might not like it. He might scoff, or think it was stupid.

Freddie raised an eyebrow at the sight of him. “I thought you were taking a bath?”

“I just need a hand,” Roger said. “I can’t find those bath bombs.”

“I left them on the sink,” Freddie said with a frown.

“Well I can’t find them.”

Freddie lifted Ziggy off his lap; ignoring the cat’s indignant hiss, he stood, rolling his eyes. “I bet Brian moved them again,” he muttered as he passed. Roger followed him with a grin- and sure enough, Freddie stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the bath in surprise.

“Well you hardly need bath bombs  _ and  _ bubbles-” He stopped, tilting his head and sniffing. He turned to Roger, folding his arms. “Is that  _ my  _ bubble bath?”

“Yep,” Roger said. “All yours actually.”

“What-? Oh…” The tension immediately left him as he looked back at the bath, taking in the candles, the fluffy towels...Everything. “You said  _ you  _ were having a bath, darling.”

“Well, there’s two options.” Roger tucked an arm around him, his hand resting lightly on Freddie’s waist. “We can have a bath together, or you can lounge here on your own for a bit and I’ll have a bath later.” Uncertainly, he added, “That okay?”

Freddie bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself; his hands pressed down on his stomach and he briefly looked disgusted. 

“Freddie, honestly, I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Roger said gently. 

But Freddie looked around again and something in his eyes seemed to brighten, even as he said, “Don’t look until I say so, darling.”

Roger could have  _ sworn  _ he felt his heart crack, but he stayed smiling and turned his back.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow. Lay down your head, and close your eyes, and when they open, the sun will rise. Here it's safe, here it's warm. Here the daisies guard you from every harm. Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you.” -Deep In The Meadow, _ ** **The Hunger Games**

It seemed to help; Freddie slowly relaxed against him, his head tilted back to rest on Roger’s shoulder, sitting between his legs.

“You okay, love?” Roger asked. His thumb gently rubbed over the mark on Freddie’s neck; it was starting to look pretty faded, but Freddie (thank God) smiled at him and nodded. Sagging in relief, Roger ran a hand through Freddie’s hair- but to his surprise, Freddie tensed and pushed away.

“Oh,  _ don’t,  _ my hair’s a mess!” 

_ There  _ was the Freddie he knew and loved. Grinning, Roger grabbed the shampoo; Freddie’s cheeks looked red, but whether that was from embarrassment or the steam, he wasn’t quite sure. He pouted almost suspiciously, but he let Roger pull him back. 

He dangled the bottle over Freddie and tossed it from hand to hand; Freddie was starting to look amused.

“May I?” Roger asked.

Freddie’s eyes went from the bottle to Roger. He bit his lip, but after a moment he smiled. He nodded.

“Okay.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The sight that greeted them made John’s heart swell; Roger and Freddie were curled up together on the sofa, with Ziggy snoring on Freddie’s stomach. There was some colour in their cheeks, Freddie was finally out of those pyjamas. He looked more relaxed, dozing on Roger’s chest like that. Roger was clearly struggling to stay awake, blinking hard at the TV, the volume turned down low.

“Hey,” Brian said, and John could practically  _ feel  _ his relief. Roger waved at them lazily, nudging Freddie to wake up. Their resident Omega grumbled under his breath, but cracked an eye open.

Instantly, John hurried over to kneel in front of him, taking one of his small hands.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased. Freddie yawned and pushed himself up; Ziggy grunted in annoyance but didn’t move.

“Did Foster give you trouble?” Freddie asked; he hadn’t pulled his hand away.

“He was surprisingly civil,” Brian said, sitting in the armchair. “He was snappy as usual, but he didn’t push it when we said we’d be taking a break, you know? Oh, and Reid said to call him if you need anything.”

John had wondered about that; Foster had seemed  _ awkward.  _ Certainly, he’d ignored John as per usual and rolled his eyes when John spoke; he’d only listened to Brian...But he’d nodded and gave a gruff “Probably for the best” when Brian said that Roger and Freddie were staying home, and would be staying there for the foreseeable future. 

He’d expected Foster to demand their presence; he’d expected a temper tantrum or a whole load of threats, not...whatever that was. Understanding? Not bloody likely.

The only one who’d seemed completely unaffected was Prenter. He’d lounged against the wall as per usual, a horrible gleam in his eyes.

Not that John would mention it. The mere sound of Prenter’s name would send Roger into a fit.

So he smiled, still holding Freddie’s hand. Freddie absentmindedly pat Ziggy on the head, nodding along as Brian told them about the meeting. He still looked pale, his old sparkle was missing from his eyes...But he looked much better than yesterday.

“Fancy some lunch?” John asked- and to his increasing relief, Freddie smiled at him and nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger had an idea. It was probably daft, but fuck it, he was sure it would make Freddie smile.

EMI were leaving them alone for now, and it was a relief. As far as they’d seen, the press didn’t know yet; Sheffield and Foster had honoured the agreement to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of their private business.

That evening, after dinner, all four of them lounged around watching the telly. Rather than retreating back to bed, Freddie stayed with them. He was still slouching in his seat and he paid more attention to Ziggy than he did to the TV, or to the conversation, but it was such a relief that Roger nearly cried. Freddie seemed ill at ease, but he was already making an effort, already taking a step forward.

Roger was looking at Ziggy, fat old Ziggy, purring away on Freddie’s lap, when an advert with kittens came on. It was a short advert, reminding people to keep their pets indoors come Halloween (Christ, they were starting the ads early this year), showing a pair of tiny mewling kittens being cuddled by a small child while fireworks went off in the distance.

Freddie smiled at the telly, cuddling Ziggy closer, and the idea flashed to life.

The next day, Roger rang Elton.

“I need you to help distract Fred,” he said. Elton arrived in record time, prancing into their tiny flat. Energetic, funny Elton would be the perfect distraction. He sat with Freddie, Deacy and Brian, telling such ridiculous stories that Freddie actually laughed for the first time in weeks.

“I’ve just to meet with Miami,” Roger said, stooping to kiss the top of Freddie’s head. “About the compensation. Be back soon, sweetheart.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger was gone a surprisingly long time. Brian and Deacy had nearly finished dinner by the time he came back- and to Freddie’s confusion, he was carrying a huge cardboard box.

Elton, Freddie noticed, outright  _ beamed  _ at the sight.

“Rog,” Freddie said cautiously. “What’s that?” Wait, were those  _ air holes?  _ What had he…?

Roger gently set the box down at Freddie’s feet; he jerked his head at the box, grinning. “Well, go on then,” he said cheerily. “Open it.”

“Ooh, you’re back!” Brian poked his head around the kitchen doorway, grinning, with Deacy right behind him. “Open it, Fred!”

He was pretty damn sure he knew what was inside, but he still  _ squealed  _ at the two tiny kittens inside the box, curled up on a woolen blanket, curiously poking each other and rolling around. One was a tabby cat like Ziggy; he was a very dark brown with oddly luminous green eyes. The other was a calico cat, mostly white, with patches of orange and black. They were both so tiny they barely seemed  _ real,  _ but when he cautiously lifted them from the box they mewed happily: the brown one licked at Freddie’s fingers, while the calico squirmed and peered all about him.

“Oh my  _ God,  _ Rog.”

“Do you like them?”

“Are you insane? I  _ love  _ them!” He didn’t know why he was crying. He was laughing, but the tears escaped before he could stop them; Elton actually grabbed a tissue and mopped at Freddie’s for him, making him laugh harder.

“What’ll you name them?” Brian asked; he leaned over the back of the armchair to watch the cats. Deacy sat on the floor by the coffee table.

“I don’t know yet,” Freddie said, sniffling, and watching as the kittens pranced up and down the sofa, tripping over their own feet. Ziggy sniffed them curiously and seemed content to let the little ones crawl all over him.

The second Roger sat next to him, Freddie kissed him; Roger’s eyes lit up when Freddie pulled back.

“I love you,” Freddie said, and when the little brown tabby nudged him with his paw, Freddie lifted him straight up, kissing the top of the kitten’s head. “And I love  _ you. _ ”

He had their names picked out by the end of dinner.

“Tom and Jerry!” he declared with a grin, watching as the three cats snoozed together on a cushion. “I’ll have to get them collars tomorrow.”

“How do you even feed kittens that tiny?” Elton asked.

“I’ll handle it,” Freddie said. “I’ve read up on it all before. It can be tricky, you have to…” And he was off, babbling about cats’ eating habits, their sleeping patterns, everything.

It was a bit of a squash in bed that night; two humans and three cats (albeit two baby ones), but it was the best night’s sleep Freddie had in weeks.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To his surprise, early the next morning, there was a knock on the door. Freddie ignored it, pressed against Roger’s side, the cats still snoring at his feet.

But then came a gentle knock on the bedroom door, and Brian opened it, looking bewildered. He held a massive bouquet of flowers; roses, lilies, carnations, baby’s breath and orchids, all tied together with a bright pink ribbon.

“Er...These arrived for you,” Brian said, looking at the bouquet like he wasn’t quite sure what it was. 

“Is there a card?” Freddie asked, reluctantly sitting up. The movement jolted Roger awake; he blinked rapidly at the flowers.

“What the hell?” 

Brian handed the huge thing to Freddie with some difficulty; sure enough there was a little card with a swirly gold border. There was no greeting or message; it was simply signed  _ Julie F.  _ For a moment, sleep addled as he was, he didn’t understand, but then the realisation shocked him awake good and proper.

_ Julie Foster. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the anxiety and depression is kicking my ass I like to take a bubble bath, sue me (and like Roger I've gotten up out of sheer "fuck you") 😅
> 
> It's shown briefly in "Keep On Rocking" that Julie Foster has a soft-spot for Freddie, and now we see it here too.


	17. Whispers In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes; Freddie and Roger fall back together, and Deacy receives some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, some smut at the start of the "Shameless" lyrics, ending at the "Whispers In The Dark" lyrics, if you wanna skip that. My ace ass can't write smut, but I gotta practice, so here we are.

**October**   
** _“These are the days of our lives, they've flown in the swiftness of time. These days are all gone now, but some things remain, when I look and I find, no change. Those were the days of our lives, yeah. The bad things in life were so few. Those days are all gone now, but one thing's still true, when I look and I find, I still love you.” -These Are The Days Of Our Lives, _ ** **Queen**

In the end, Miami gently persuaded Roger and Freddie to issue an official statement. Rumours were rampant, as the press realised they hadn’t seen either of them in over a month.

“Better to handle it yourself,” Miami told them.

Honestly, Brian wasn’t surprised by the response; most tabloids were sympathetic to  _ Roger,  _ but not Freddie. It was an Omega’s “job” to carry children after all. Clearly, this was just further proof that Freddie wasn’t a proper Omega; in fact this was  _ obviously  _ proof that Freddie was a failure of an Omega.

Horse shit, all of it. It wasn’t exactly the type of news to make television, but it  _ did  _ pop up in the newspapers and magazines, and each headline made Brian want to rip the papers to shreds.

No, what surprised him were the articles that sympathized with Freddie too. Some of them were oddly kind, and Brian half wondered if it was some sort of prank. Usually, the press were quick to crucify Freddie. They were usually a united front in that regard. But this time, they were split. This time, some of them implored the public to leave Freddie and Roger be, to give them time to grieve.

_ It’s a devastating blow for anyone,  _ one journalist wrote.  _ Let alone for a couple in the public eye. Much as we may miss our favourite drummer and frontmen, we need to show them we understand, and sympathise with them in their loss. Let them recover at their own pace; we’ll be there to welcome them back happily, when they’re ready. _

To Brian’s further shock, that article was written by an Alpha. Would wonders never cease?

He was mulling over the article when Deacy came back from Veronica’s, looking quite rumpled. He’d been gone all night, but that was expected- and bless him, but he’d been worried about leaving. Freddie had practically had to throw him out the door.

“Good night?” Brian grinned, putting the magazine down.

Deacy nodded with a coy little smile, patting his hair futilely. He glanced at the magazine, and his smile faltered. “More bullshit?” he asked.

“Surprisingly no,” Brian said. “I mean, obviously there  _ has  _ been some backlash, but this guy is...being nice about it.”

“Shocking,” Deacy snorted. The worst thing, Brian felt, was that it  _ was  _ shocking. Common decency shouldn’t have been a surprise, but there you go. Thankfully, Roger and Freddie hadn’t read any of the articles at all; some tabloids had called, looking for interviews, but they’d all been turned down. No one had turned up to lurk outside their building yet, but Brian was waiting for it to happen. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

He could hear Roger singing in the shower, and Freddie came into the room, with Tom and Jerry running in circles around his feet; Ziggy followed at a more dignified pace.

Those cats had worked miracles. In the two weeks since they’d arrived, Freddie had been more active. They didn’t fix  _ everything-  _ more often than not, Brian found Freddie staring into space, and he still cried at odd moments- but they helped. Knowing there were now  _ three  _ cats relying on him for care got him out of bed on most days. 

Then, of course, there was therapy. The first time they’d gone, Roger had come home flushed and teary, Freddie quiet and eerily blank faced, but Brian had definitely noticed an improvement. Roger seemed calmer, more like his usual self; Freddie seemed brighter.

It would take a long time for them to be  _ okay  _ again, but they were getting there. Slowly but surely, there was light coming back to their eyes.

“Okay, Fred?” Brian asked, as the kittens mewed loudly and Ziggy nudged his food bowl imperiously.

“Okay,” Freddie said, reaching for the cat food. At the sight of the food, all three cats perked up, sitting at attention. As the cats ate, Freddie joined Brian and Deacy at the cramped kitchen table. He smirked at Deacy. 

“Someone’s looking well.”

“Shut up,” Deacy said, blushing- but he was still smiling. To Brian’s increasing relief they were  _ all  _ smiling. Even Roger, when he eventually joined them, had a smile on his face.

It turned out to be a good day. Nothing exciting happened, in fact nothing happened at all. They all four lounged around, just having a quiet day to themselves. Freddie and Roger didn’t lock themselves away or go storming off; Deacy didn’t tear his hair out with worry, Brian didn’t work himself into a panic over the state of things.

It was just a quiet day.

They could do with some peace and quiet.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**November** **   
** ** _“I'm the one who burned us down, but it's not what I meant; sorry that I hurt you. I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you. I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you. I need to say, hey it's all me, just don't go. Meet me in the afterglow.” -Afterglow, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Roger knew Freddie like the back of his hand; he could see how Freddie was improving, smiling more and even laughing, but Roger also saw when he got quiet and withdrawn. He noticed how, despite losing weight, Freddie was clearly still worried. He exercised more often, going on jogs or runs with Mary, pushing himself to the point that he fell asleep almost as soon as he got home.

Personally, Roger didn’t see the fuss. Freddie had more colour in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes again, that was all he cared about. But  _ Freddie  _ cared, that was the point. They were falling back together again, but whenever Roger touched him, Freddie flinched. He’d touch Roger no bother, and Roger had admittedly not realised at first; he’d let Freddie suck him off, or jerk him off without blinking. It wasn’t until the fourth time that Freddie suddenly claimed to be “too tired” or said “don’t worry about me, darling,” that it clicked.

He felt like an asshole. 

The press didn’t help; they’d started commenting on Freddie’s weight, making disparaging comments about how the smallest of them was now the biggest. It was a load of bollocks, they called Freddie fat when he  _ wasn’t,  _ and even if he had been,  _ so what?  _

“They’re just jealous you’re better looking than them,” Roger had scoffed a million times before, and he stood by that now.

But Freddie didn’t.

Freddie, who normally loved sweets, who usually happily nibbled away, had yet to touch the chocolates Mary had bought him, though Roger saw him glance at them a few times.

Eventually, he said, “For God’s sake, Fred, they’re for  _ you.  _ You don’t have to ask permission to eat them!”

But Freddie shook his head, and Roger was beginning to feel almost paranoid with how worried he was. He was worried that if this kept up, it might develop into something serious. Maybe he was worrying too much, but he couldn’t help it. He had every reason to be worried; Freddie wasn’t himself lately (neither of them were), so he couldn’t  _ really  _ say he knew what Freddie would do.

He knew Freddie; he tended to get stuck in his own head. He tended to worry about how looked anyway, but now? 

“Fred, you’re not eating,” Roger said, as gently as he could. Freddie frowned at him.

“Yes I am.”

“I mean you’re not eating stuff you  _ like,  _ other than Jer’s cooking. Come on, you  _ love  _ chocolate.”

Freddie huffed, looking away. “I’m trying to  _ lose  _ weight, darling, not  _ gain  _ it.”

“But  _ why?  _ Freddie, you look-”

“Like shit,” Freddie snapped. “I’m still fat, I’d like to change that.”

“You’re  _ not  _ fat, you’re-”  _ Pregnant.  _ It nearly slipped out. But Freddie wasn’t pregnant anymore. Ah. Well, that explained it all, didn’t it? It was like everything was suddenly thrown into focus, and Roger stared at Freddie, really taking him in. Yeah, there was still some extra weight around his thighs and hips, his stomach, and his ass too, if Roger was honest...But that was all it was. A little extra weight. He’d  _ lost  _ weight, but he wasn’t stick thin again. But he wasn’t pregnant anymore. He couldn’t shrug off any comments about his weight with “Well, I’m pregnant.”

“I just want to look normal again, that’s all,” Freddie muttered, shrugging, looking stubbornly at the floor.

Which really just confirmed Roger’s train of thought.  _ Normal.  _ Freddie was looking at the weight as one more reminder of the baby.

Roger’s face scrunched up with the sudden urge to cry. 

“You  _ are  _ normal. You  _ don’t  _ look like shit, you’re not fat and I wouldn’t give a damn if you were! You’re- fuck’s sake, you’re gorgeous, Freddie.”

Freddie looked at him like he was expecting Roger to point and laugh at him. Never. Not a chance.

Roger would just have to prove it to him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Right now, I'm shameless, screamin’ my lungs out for you. Not afraid to face it, I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to. Show me you're shameless. Write it on my neck, why don't you? And I won't erase it, I need you more than I want to, I need you more than I want to.” -Shameless, _ ** **Camila Cabello**

He was glad Brian and Deacy were staying with Chrissie and Veronica that night; one way or another, this would end up being loud. Worst case scenario, he and Freddie would end up in an argument, yelling at each other. Best case scenario, he proved his point and had Freddie screaming for a different reason entirely.

Honestly, the biggest issue was herding the cats into Brian and Deacy’s room, especially the kittens; they fussed and cried, used to sleeping in their room, used to sleeping at Freddie’s feet. He was just glad that Freddie, in the bath, didn’t appear to hear them. If he had, God knew he’d be storming out of the bathroom demanding to know why his babies were crying.

Thankfully, treats distracted them, and they were all three stuck in Brian and Deacy’s room. 

He felt a little daft as he waited for Freddie; this could so easily turn into a fight and he knew that. Freddie might think he was being ridiculous.

All those fears vanished when Freddie walked in, wrapped in his favourite purple dressing gown. He shot Roger a slightly sleepy smile as he ran a comb through his still damp hair. Before he could go to grab his pyjamas, Roger walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Freddie’s waist.

“Hey,” he mumbled, kissing at the mark on Freddie’s neck. Marks were sensitive and he knew that, using it to his advantage. Freddie automatically tilted his head to side, granting him better access- and immediately rolled his eyes at himself.

“Oh, get off,” Freddie said, lightly shoving at him.

“I intend to,” Roger grinned, and Freddie let out a startled bark of laughter.

“You’re terribly cheesy sometimes, darling,” he laughed. He peered around and frowned. “Where’re the cats?”

“In the other room,” Roger said. “You hate doing anything with the cats in the room.”

Freddie looked at him with raised eyebrows, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. 

“And what makes you think I’m in the mood?”

“I think I can convince you.” He wrapped his arms around him from behind again, his hands resting on the knot of the dressing gown. He kissed at the mark again, gentling moving the dressing gown aside to bare Freddie’s shoulder. “I miss you,” he murmured. One of his hands travelled upwards, slipping inside the gown to pinch at Freddie’s nipple- his own weren’t sensitive, but Freddie’s were, and he was never quite sure if it was a Freddie thing or an Omega thing. Either way he wasn’t complaining. He ground against him, and Freddie was already looking a little pink, biting his lip, Roger could see in the mirror. When he bit the mark Freddie’s breath hitched, and Roger grinned, pinching at him harder.

“They all want you,” he said. “All our fans.” He took a chance and untied the dressing gown; Freddie didn’t seem to notice. “Half the roadies. Hell, even a lot of those reporters want you. I can’t really blame them.” He couldn’t help but sound smug as he added, “But you’re mine.” Fighting back his own nerves, he slid the gown off Freddie’s shoulders and let it pool to the floor.

He stepped back, forcing himself to look calm and collected as he strolled around to stand in front of Freddie. He was still fully clothed and he was suddenly, sharply, reminded of that night in May. 

_ Three times,  _ he reminded himself as he kissed Freddie; he pulled back, and Freddie tilted forward to follow him.  _ Three times. _

_ (Freddie’s legs were wrapped around his hips, his nails clawed at Roger’s back. Distantly, part of him was glad the other two weren’t home; neither of them were quiet, and the next thrust had Freddie  _ screaming  _ his name.) _

He shook himself back to the present, letting his eyes wander. Before, Freddie had never cared if Roger saw him half-dressed, or even naked. Before they were even dating, Roger had barged in on him naked once, and Freddie had laughed it off.  _ Deacy  _ had been more scandalised by it.

Now though, as Roger’s eyes wandered, as he made sure Freddie could  _ see  _ his eyes wander, Freddie squirmed, blushing. His eyes darted to the dressing gown at his feet, but Roger tilted his chin up.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said. He stroked Freddie’s hair off his face, never breaking eye contact as he finally let his hands roam. He tugged Freddie flush against him; his hands cupped Freddie’s ass, kneading until Freddie’s gasped, letting a smug smirk cross his face when he felt how wet Freddie was. Slowly, Freddie seemed to forget his embarrassment, throwing his head back and baring his throat, outright moaning when Roger returned to his nipples, pinching and rolling them, eventually ducking down to bite at them.

“Rog,” he groaned, tugging at Roger’s hair. Roger hummed in response, Freddie let out another sharp moan, legs shaking as Roger reached down to slowly stroke him. When Freddie’s legs spread, Roger grinned and pushed him back onto the bed. Freddie let out a startled little  _ “Oof!” _ at the sudden change in pace, blinking at him rapidly. Roger knelt in front of him, spreading his legs further.

He could only imagine what half his old college mates would say, at an Alpha kneeling in front of an Omega. Freddie’s hair was fanned out behind him, his inner thighs were damp with slick, he was flushed and gasping, and Roger was absolutely smitten.

“I want you,” he said simply. Slowly, cautiously, one finger stroked at Freddie’s entrance- and to his delight, Freddie pushed down on it. “Convinced yet?” he asked.

“Yes,” Freddie whispered- and he reached down to grab Roger’s wrist, guiding his finger inside him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“My love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses. I’ll be the one that's gonna hold you, I’ll be the one that you run to. My love is a burning, consuming fire. No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, I'll light the night with stars. Hear the whispers in the dark.” -Whispers In The Dark, _ ** **Skillet**

Freddie knew it was obvious what they’d been up to; even the next morning it was obvious, but he  _ didn’t care.  _ The mark on his neck was still throbbing, darker than it had been in weeks, and he knew he still smelled like Roger. 

Brian and Deacy didn’t get home until lunch time. Freddie and Roger had found a good day-time movie, and were curled up on the sofa together. Freddie had his head on Roger’s lap, cuddling Jerry to his chest. Ziggy napped at his feet and Tom had climbed right up Roger to sit on his shoulder, purring away.

Brian got home first, looking nearly as satisfied with himself as Roger. He blinked at them, sniffed- and flushed, grinning sheepishly.

“Let’s just assume we all had a good night and leave it at that, yeah?” he suggested.

“Agreed,” they both said; though Roger, the smug bastard,  _ winked.  _

When Deacy got home however, he seemed a little worried.

“I think her heat’s coming up,” he said, biting his lip. “She seemed so worn out.”

“Poor girl,” Freddie said, wincing in sympathy. God knew he usually ended up ill when his hit, and poor Ronnie had a tendency to burst into tears over the smallest thing on hers, as well as being stuck with back pains.

As worried as Deacy was about Veronica, even he took one look at Freddie and Roger and shook his head, smiling. When Brian came back from the bathroom he outright laughed.

“Well,” he said, pressing a hand over his mouth. “We, uh- we had a good night, huh?”

“I don’t wanna know,” Freddie said quickly.

“You didn’t mind when I said it,” Brian pointed out.

“You’re not Deacy.”

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m his favourite,” Deacy said smugly.

“Excuse you,  _ I’m  _ the one who fucks him!” Roger protested. “Last night I-”

_ “I don’t want to know!”  _ Deacy cried, while Brian clapped his hands over his ears, and Freddie burst out laughing so loudly that all three cats jumped off the sofa.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Being back at EMI was...odd. The receptionist gave them a pitying smile as they passed. They passed a few other executives and managers, most of whom avoided eye-contact, which Freddie couldn’t help but scowl at. What, did they think a miscarriage was  _ contagious _ or something?

But he wasn’t about to let them intimidate him. He kept his chin up, scowling at them all. Roger held his hand, fiercely glaring at everyone they passed; his glare only hardened further when they got to Foster’s office. Reid and Paul were already there, waiting for them. Reid gave a sympathetic nod, but Paul just- just  _ stared,  _ eerily blank, his eyes trained on Freddie’s stomach.

Other than that, the meeting passed without incident. Freddie quickly saw what Brian meant about Foster’s attitude; the normally demanding Alpha was suddenly  _ awkward,  _ not looking at Freddie at all, looking uncomfortable whenever Roger spoke.

“We’re thinking about squeezing a show or two in next month,” Foster said, seemingly addressing Brian alone. “Now that circumstances have- changed. We can’t organise a whole other tour in America before you’re due to start the next album, but we can have a few shows in England, and Japan are still eager for you to visit.”

Freddie couldn’t help but perk up. He’d always wanted to visit Japan, and he knew they were popular over there, Reid had happily shown them the sales rates. He tried to imagine performing over there and, for the first time since September, he  _ could.  _

“Japan?” he asked. “Really?”

Foster glanced at him and nodded. “Japan,” he confirmed. “Even if you don’t do any shows, they’re eager for a press tour at the least.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re batty for you lot over there.”

All four of them were sitting up straighter, smiling at each other.

“So, a few shows over here next month, and Japan at the start of next year,” Foster said. “Shouldn’t be too hard to arrange if we work hard.”

As the meeting ended, and they all made to leave, Freddie paused in the doorway. He glanced back: Foster was going over some paperwork, scowling at the pages.

“...Foster?”

Foster looked up, scowling. 

Freddie took a deep breath, ignoring everyone’s curious stares. “Tell Julie I said thank you for the flowers.”

For a moment, when Foster continued to scowl, Freddie thought he’d yell as per usual. But instead, he nodded.

“Aye,” he said briskly. “I will.”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say thank you, but he nodded in acknowledgment, and led the way out.

They all lingered together outside. Reid gave Roger a quick pat on the back, shooting Freddie a quick smile.

“Remember to call if you need anything,” he said. Paul stared at Freddie, and when Roger was distracted with Reid, Paul grabbed Freddie’s wrist, pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.” His voice was soft, even his expression had gentled, but his eyes stayed cold as he looked Freddie up and down, and Freddie was too tired to put up with him. He jerked away from Paul, bristling.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. 

“Freddie, I just-”

“Don’t touch me,” Freddie said. “I’ve told you to stop.” He turned his back on him, sticking close to Roger’s side. Reid left, and  _ Queen  _ went back to the van once he did; Freddie didn’t look back at Paul once.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next day was quiet; Brian sat on the armchair, writing a song, Freddie was with the cats in the bedroom and Roger had gone out to meet with Clare.

It was peaceful, until Deacy came home, white faced.

“Deacs?” Brian went to him, guiding the shivering Beta to the sofa. “John, what’s wrong? Is it Veronica? Is she sick?”

“She’s not sick,” Deacy said hoarsely. They heard Freddie laugh from down the hall, and Deacy looked stricken. 

“She’s not sick,” he repeated. “She’s pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Deacy, you have some crazy timing...


	18. Knowing Me, Knowing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica's expecting; Freddie and Roger struggle with their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kicks door down* YA BITCH GOT QUEEN TICKETS! I'M GOING TO SEE QUEEN NEXT YEAR, THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I'VE BEEN IN WEEKS! 💕 (Yes, I cried.)
> 
> Anyway, this is just some bonding and filler; next time we'll be doing a time-skip to the boys moving into their own places, some scenes in Japan and (hopefully) moving onto Ridge Farm.

** _“So stand in the rain, stand your ground, stand up when it's all crashing down. You stand through the pain, you won't drown. And one day what’s lost can be found, you stand in the rain.” -Stand In The Rain, _ ** **Superchick**

John felt awful telling them. Roger’s eyes dimmed and Freddie’s smile faltered, and he felt like the worst friend in the world.

Logically, he knew he shouldn’t feel bad; it wasn’t like he’d done this to hurt them. Hell, this wasn’t even _ planned. _But they’d just been getting back on track, and now…

“That’s great, darling,” Freddie said weakly, and John couldn’t stand it. He felt like he’d disappointed them, he felt like he was throwing it in their faces. Freddie’s hands lingered at his stomach, and John suddenly wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“What the hell are you _ apologising _ for?” Roger demanded, though John could _ see _how shaken he was.

“I just- everything with Heydar, and now-”

“I’d imagine you should be worrying about Ronnie’s parents,” Freddie said with a wan smile. “Not us.”

_ Oh God. _ Ronnie’s parents. Shit. They were going to _ kill _him.

The realisation seemed to hit the other three too; Brian patted him on the back, apparently resigned to John’s impending demise.

“It was nice knowing you, Deacs.”

“They’re going to kill me,” John said bleakly. “I’m so dead.”

“That’s the spirit,” Roger said; his smile seemed a little more genuine. “How’s Ronnie?”

“Pretty freaked out,” John admitted. “But...Not as freaked as I would have expected, you know?” Freddie nodded, and John wanted to bite his tongue, because of _ course _ Freddie knew. He’d been in the same position. But now he wasn’t, and he could _ see _Freddie’s eyes dimming; he could see Roger drooping.

“I think I’m going to go lie down,” Freddie mumbled. He scooped up Jerry and fled.

“I’m sorry,” John repeated, agonised.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for, Deacy,” Roger said- but he left too, noticeably subdued.

“Shit,” John groaned when they were gone. He looked at Brian, who looked about as helpless as he felt. “Should I go after them, or something?”

Brian shook his head. “I think we should leave them be for a while,” he said gently. 

“What am I going to do?” John asked, slumping in his seat. “I don’t just mean with Rog and Fred, I just- what am I going to _ do? _”

“Well...I’d imagine you and Veronica will need your own place too,” Brian said. “As for her parents...You know they’ll expect you to marry her.”

He knew that all too well; they were a very conservative couple. Convincing them to let Veronica move in with her friends had been a battle and a half. They expected their Omega daughter to stay at home where, according to her mother, it was “safe.”

He knew the Bulsaras had expected the same, though Freddie and Roger hadn’t been official yet. But John and Veronica had been together for nearly two years now.

“Do you want to marry her?” Brian asked, squeezing his shoulder.

It was no contest, really.

“Yeah,” John said, nodding. “I do. I want to marry her.”

  
  
  
  
  


Freddie hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. He was happy for Deacy and Veronica, of course he was, they were his _ friends- _but it also made him want to scream.

“I’m angry,” Roger admitted quietly. He huffed, running his hands through his hair. “Shit, I’m a bad friend.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Freddie said, because part of him (quite a big part, if he was totally honest) was angry. It wasn’t _ fair. _He’d just lost his baby and now Deacy just- just had one on the way? What, was he expected to just smile and laugh?

But that wasn’t fair either. Deacy hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Slowly, his eyes went to the wardrobe; they still had the small box of baby things in there. The blanket from Bernie, the toy bunny and rattle from Clare, and a tiny white sleeping suit patterned with ducks from Kashmira.

_ I want to burn it, _ he thought suddenly, viciously- and had to shake himself, because he _ didn’t, _ not _ really. _

But he _ did _want it all gone. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But he couldn’t seem to help it; it was stuck in his mind on repeat. One look at Roger, with him vacant eyes and frown, told Freddie it was stuck in Roger’s head too.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“No more carefree laughter. Silence ever after. Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes; this is where the story ends. This is goodbye. Knowing me, knowing you (aah), there is nothing we can do. Knowing me, knowing you (aah). We just have to face it, this time we're through.” -Knowing Me, Knowing You, _ ** **ABBA**

Miami rang early the next morning.

“So, I’ve finally reached a deal with the hospital,” he said briskly. “So long as you agree to keep this out of court and out of the papers, they’re willing to offer 7,500 pounds.”

For a moment, Roger’s head spun. They’d expected 5,000 pounds at the most, 2,000 at the least. They’d expected that the hospital’s board would keep dragging their feet; they’d expected that this would have to go to court and that it would be splashed all over the papers.

“I...Yeah,” he said, shaking himself back to reality. “Lemme get Freddie, I’ll just- just make sure that’s okay with him.”

Freddie was still asleep, and clearly wasn’t happy at being woken up, but he let Roger drag him into the living room. He frowned as he listened to Miami, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Fine,” he eventually said. “Whatever.” He handed the phone back to Roger and went back to their room.

Sighing, Roger spoke to Miami; “Guess it’s a deal.”

“I’m sorry, Roger,” Miami said. “Really I am.”

“I know.”

He hung up and went after Freddie- and it felt like something was squeezing his heart like a vice. Freddie was sitting cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by the cats, and he had the small box of baby things in his lap. He was staring at the open box blankly, but Roger could see the tears in his eyes, he could see his hands shaking.

“Freddie?”

“I want to get rid of it,” Freddie said, pressing his hands against his eyes. He let out a mirthless little laugh. “It’s not like we’re using it.”

Part of Roger recoiled from the idea of throwing it all away. It would just drive their loss home all over again. Yet why keep it? It would just sit in their wardrobe, gathering dust.

But they didn’t necessarily have to toss it all.

“We could donate it?” he suggested, sitting by Freddie. “You know, instead of just throwing it away.”

Freddie nodded. Roger expected him to put the box down, or push it away; instead, he grabbed the blanket out, clutching it to his chest.

“We don’t have to get rid of all of it,” he mumbled.

Roger was more relieved than he cared to admit.

  
  
  
  
  


Their predictions had proven correct; Veronica’s parents _ lost _it. They demanded that Deacy marry her, they demanded he buy their daughter a “real family home,” before they could even have the wedding.

If it was Roger, he’d have scoffed in their faces and told them to butt out. Deacy wasn’t Roger; he meekly agreed that they were right, and went to EMI for an advance of his own.

Perhaps remembering all the trouble last time, or remembering their agreement to actually pay the boys the royalties they were owed, Sheffield and Foster gave Deacy the money (albeit with a lot of complaining and sarcastic comments about Deacy not wasting time.)

“Should we expect May in here next?” Foster demanded as he handed the cheque over. “This is getting ridiculous!”

Brian smiled right at Foster. “No promises,” he said sweetly; his smile grew when Foster turned red with anger. Despite himself, Roger couldn’t help but smirk; it was never hard to rile Foster up, and it was often rewarding. 

But as they left his office, all amusement fled. He still felt cast-down; he felt awkward and a little nauseous. He’d made sure he wasn’t home when Veronica came over the other day. He just...He hadn’t wanted to listen to any baby talk. He and Freddie had gone out for the day, wandering London.

He felt like a bad friend. He was happy for them, and desperately envious too. He felt so jealous it hurt.

Deacy looked at him and Freddie so _ awkwardly, _so apologetically. Roger wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault; it was just...awkward timing. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

But it still hurt.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“There's nothing to do right now but try. There are a hundred people who will listen to you cry. And I get that they don't get it, but they love you so much that you won't regret it. You're at the bottom, this is it. Just get through, you will be fixed. And you think, that I don't get it, but I burned my way through, and I don't regret it_ ** **.** ** _” -Secret For The Mad, _ ** **Dodie Clark**

Freddie was at his limit. It had been two weeks of sad glances and awkward silences. He’d never seen Roger so hesitant before, not even when he was pregnant. Deacy always looked so _ guilty _after expressing any excitement over becoming a father.

They clearly weren’t going to make the first move, so Freddie would have to do it himself.

Freddie, being Freddie, went all out.

Deacy had been nothing but supportive when he was pregnant, even threatening to beat Roger up when the news broke. He’d held him as he cried, he’d fussed over every little thing, worrying endlessly.

If that was any indication, he’d be a great father. Freddie knew it.

So he went and bought a present.

The others certainly looked bewildered when he came back, lugging a brightly wrapped parcel. He may or may not have paid to get it wrapped too, sue him; he didn’t want Deacy seeing it straight away. 

“Er...Freddie, what’s that?” Brian asked.

“It’s for mini-Deacy,” Freddie said- and thank God, he sounded confident. Deacy blinked at him in surprise, smiling (albeit bewildered) when Freddie thrust it at him.

Slowly, he opened it, and his smile widened into a genuine grin. For a moment, he looked like he was going to cry.

It was a mobile to hang above a crib. The box showed a ring of black and white sheep, circling a crescent moon; it would play a gentle tune when turned on, the moon would even light up.

“Oh,” Deacy breathed. “Oh...Freddie, you didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be daft,” Freddie said, perching on the arm of the sofa. “You...You were there for me the whole time, darling. I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Deacy insisted. He looked to Roger. “Neither of you do. It’s…”

“It’s hard,” Roger said. He lightly elbowed Deacy as he added, “But we shouldn’t have avoided this.”

Brian looked unspeakably relieved. Freddie couldn’t say he blamed him.

“So...We’re good?” Deacy asked.

“Of course we are, idiot,” Roger said, throwing an arm around Deacy’s thin shoulders. Grinning, Deacy set the mobile on the coffee table and tugged Freddie down; with a startled yelp, Freddie fell nearly onto Deacy’s lap. Deacy didn’t seem to care, he clung to them both. Roger said, “Get the fuck over here, Bri,” and suddenly all four of them were clinging together.

“I love you guys,” Deacy said, looking faintly embarrassed as he always did. “I really do.”

“We love you too, darling, you know that,” Freddie said.

And he did. He didn’t know what he’d do without them.

This wouldn’t be easy; he knew himself too well. Happy as he was, he was still sad. Still jealous. It would fade with time. He’d get there eventually. For now, he’d be there for Deacy; there was another baby on the way, and God, he hoped this would end well. He honestly hoped Deacy and Veronica would have a baby to hold at the end of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are struggling, but it'll take more than this to break this pack.
> 
> (As for the settlement from the hospital; some solicitors' sites I've found, as well as a few articles, say the most you can typically hope to get when suing for negligence and emotional trauma is around 5,000 pounds, 2,000 pounds at the least, depending on the scenario and severity. As Freddie and Roger are beloved public figures, I can see the hospital wanting to keep this out of the papers, hence the extra cash.)


	19. Hall Of Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their first day in Japan and Freddie's already in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Japan time! The boys are gonna get some much deserved spoiling for a while. I'm happy, and you know what happens when I'm happy? I write happy content. We have a break from the angst for a while.

**March, Osaka Japan, 1975** **  
** ** _“Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at you, it's only this moment, don't care what comes after. It's blinding, outshining anything that you know. Just surrender 'cause you're calling, and you wanna go where it's covered in all the colored lights; where the runaways are running the night. Impossible comes true, intoxicating you.” -The Greatest Show, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

It was no wonder Japan quickly climbed Freddie’s list of favourite places. Even in the airport, heads turned to follow them; he could hear excited whispers, saw almost everyone they passed nudge each other and point at _ Queen. _

The roadies, accompanied by Paul, took care of their cases as Freddie and the boys looked around for the team sent to greet them. Sure enough, near the front doors, was a small Alpha woman with shining black eyes, holding a bouquet of roses; she had three tall men with her, two Betas and one Alpha. The Alpha man held up a sign that said _ QUEEN! _

“Misa?” Brian asked, and the small Alpha woman nodded with a big grin. To Freddie’s surprise, she handed the roses straight to him, even as she addressed Brian.

“Misa Watanabe,” she confirmed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m to be your hostess for the duration of your stay, I’m sure Mr Foster explained? If you need anything or have any questions, come to me and I’ll do my best to help out.” The Betas went to help Crystal, Paul and Ratty with the cases, the Alpha gestured for them to follow him.

It was madness outside. There was a huge, screaming crowd of people, and- were those _ police officers _ holding the crowd back? Christ, those were police officers. Freddie couldn’t read most of the signs, they were written in Japanese, but a few were written in English; _ “I Love You Brian!” _ or _ “Long Live Queen!” _that sort of thing. Again and again, he saw his band’s name, and their faces, plastered on signs and posters.

“Whoa,” Deacy gasped.

“Fucking hell,” Roger murmured. He pulled Freddie closer, keeping an awed and somewhat wary eye on the crowd. “This is insane.”

Freddie had to agree. He’d known they were popular over here, but _ this _was like nothing they’d ever seen before.

“It’s like a Beatles crowd,” he said. There were too many people to count, there even seemed to be more fans scattered throughout the car park, lingering by the bus terminal. All of them were screaming their names, the band’s name, or shouting out in Japanese, so beyond their names he had absolutely no idea what they were saying. They held posters, flowers, teddies, magazines, vinyls...They didn’t get to linger, or talk to anyone; they were quickly led away.

Freddie expected another bus, that was what they usually had. Instead, they were led to a _ limo. _There was another, highly expensive looking, sleek black car behind the limo for the rest of the team.

“Oh, holy _ shit! _” he burst out before he could stop himself. Brian was unashamedly gaping, Deacy’s eyes looked ready to fall out of his head. Roger looked all too pleased. Misa giggled at their reactions.

“Don’t you usually get a limo?” she asked.

“No,” Brian said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Normally it’s a bus.”

Crystal, Ratty, Paul, and the two Beta men were already packing their cases into the trunk. The Alpha man opened the door for them; he took a step back as Deacy climbed in, he nodded to Brian as he followed. Once more, Freddie was left blinking in surprise, because the man held a hand out to help Freddie into the limo. Even his boys looked surprised.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie said, letting the man help him. He beamed in response, stepping back again and giving a respectful nod as Roger climbed in after Freddie.

The limo was honestly like nothing he’d ever seen. It was _ huge, _with tinted windows and somewhat sparkly walls; it even had a skylight, and Freddie had the immediate urge to open it and poke his head out. He just barely managed to resist. There was a large bottle of champagne and some glasses waiting for them, and a large box of chocolates; there were fluffy pillows on the seats, and it was easily the comfiest (and most luxurious) mode of transport he’d ever had.

“This is....Hell, this insane,” Deacy said, looking all around him with wide eyes.

“I could get used to this,” Brian laughed.

“Hear hear!” Roger said, reaching for the champagne as they started to drive away. It took a while to get through the crowd, but after that it was smooth sailing. Freddie gave into temptation and opened the skylight, but when he went to stand Brian hooked him back into his seat.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said.

“You want to as well,” Freddie said.

“...Yeah,” Brian admitted, but he still wouldn’t let Freddie up.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“Standing in the hall of fame, and the world's gonna know your name, ‘cause you burn with the brightest flame; and the world's gonna know your name, and you'll be on the walls of the hall of fame. You could go the distance. You could run the mile. You could walk straight through hell with a smile.” -Hall Of Fame, _ ** **The Script**

There were more fans at the hotel, being kept back by a barrier; there was a small team of security guards by the door. Again, they all had posters and signs, or gifts; a few even looked like they were crying, but they were all smiling.

Misa opened the door for them; the Alpha man (their chauffeur, Freddie supposed), offered Freddie a hand out. It was...a change. Usually, when they went abroad, the team ignored Freddie or offered him help last. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d overheard the stage hands or roadies making lewd comments behind his back. Usually, if the band was given presents, they were handed directly to Brian or Roger, sometimes to Deacy. Not to say _ everyone _was awful, it was just what Freddie had become used to. He was the one the press hated, the one Alphas talked about ‘spanking the attitude out of.’ 

It was _ weird, _ but...but it was a _ good _weird.

This time, as the others gathered their luggage, Freddie and the boys were allowed to greet some fans, with Misa to translate.

One teenage girl, standing with an older woman who must have been her mother, shyly handed Freddie a vinyl of their last album to sign. She ducked her head, giggling and plaiting a strand of her hair.

“Typical!” her mother laughed in English. “She spends all her time talking about you, and now she meets you she can’t get a word out!”

“Really?” Freddie asked, blinking in surprise. The teenager was an Alpha; usually it was their Omega fans, sometimes their Beta fans, that got a little star-struck when they met Freddie. It was rare that the Alpha ones did more than leer. But the woman nodded, smiling indulgently as she patted her daughter’s head.

“Freddie, Freddie, Freddie,” she said. “That’s all she ever talks about. Best singer ever, she says.”

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie said, smiling at the girl. Her blush darkened, her grin widened.

“I’m right though,” she said. “You _ are _the best singer ever.”

He didn’t let to linger for long. Brian tugged his arm, jerking his head at their team, who were waiting by the doors of the hotel. Smiling at the girl again, Freddie went ahead with his boys.

  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t just a hotel room; it was a whole _ suite _ of rooms, more like apartments than anything. You could fit their whole _ flat _in Roger and Freddie’s room alone. The view from their room was amazing, but the view from the balcony took Freddie’s breath away.

When he leaned over the side and strained his ears, he realised he could still hear cheering. Their fans hadn’t left yet.

The bath-tub could have easily fit all four of them at once; the living room was a split-level, with sofas and chairs surrounding a large television. There were flowers _ everywhere, _and paintings of cherry blossom gardens on the walls. 

“There’s also a spa if you’re interested,” Misa said, handing Freddie a list of available treatments. “Room service is available around the clock. The plan for today is simply to let you get settled and relax; the tour of the city isn’t until tomorrow morning. There’s a party planned for tonight though, to welcome you. I’ll be back to collect you around seven, is that okay?”

She was still looking at Freddie, smiling inquiringly. 

Freddie glanced at the boys; they appeared equally surprised.

“That sounds lovely,” Freddie said eventually. Misa smiled around at them all, bowed, and left, throwing one last smile over her shoulder.

Freddie didn’t know how to say _ Why is everyone being nice? _ without sounding pathetic. He shook it off. He wasn’t about to _ complain _ about fair treatment, it was what he was constantly fighting for- it was just a surprise to be _ given _fair treatment freely, without having to argue.

He twisted his cat pendant around his fingers as he looked around. Yeah. He could definitely get used to his.

  
  
  
  
  


As promised, Misa was back by seven; her black hair was pinned back, and she wore a shimmering gold gown with a diamond pin in her hair, and a matching diamond necklace. Truth be told, she _ did _look beautiful.

“Looking smart, boys,” she said.

Well, Freddie wasn’t going to pretend they didn’t. They’d all had _ far _too much fun with the scented bath oils and shampoos provided; he didn’t think he’d ever seen Deacy’s hair look quite so glossy. Brian had his best black suit on, with a little star-shaped pin on his lapel, Deacy was wearing a pinstripe suit Veronica had bought him. Roger wore a pale grey suit with a lilac shirt (which had the top buttons undone, of course), and Freddie wore his favourite red suit with the black shirt; the cat pendant bounced against his chest.

Of course, where they went, the whole team followed; Crystal, Ratty, Paul, and the Japanese members of the team (Yukkiteru and Hiro, Freddie learned) were all dressed in their best. Even their driver, Makoto, was all dressed up.

The party was held in a venue down the street; it wasn’t quite a pub, nor a club, nor even a restaurant. There was food and drink available to be sure, and music was played by a live band on a little stage, but for the most part they were encouraged to wander the spacious gardens. They were beautiful, to be sure. There was even a little stream, with curved red bridges criss-crossing it, and lanterns in every tree. There was a large gazebo in the garden, where Freddie could see a small group sitting and chatting, sipping at their drinks. There were fairy lights draped across the windows; it was one of the prettiest places he’d ever seen. Right up his alley.

And as the night wore on, Freddie began to love Japan for a different reason; sure, there were some raised eyebrows at his presence, a few scoffs and rolled eyes...But no one cat-called, no one groped him or pinched him, no one shouted after him. People seemed almost _ curious. _You could have sworn they’d never seen an Omega before. When the band was introduced to people, they smiled and bowed at him just the same as they did with his friends. 

It was utterly unlike Sheffield’s or Foster’s parties. Even if a waiter or waitress was an Omega, they were fully dressed, unlike back home. Freddie didn’t see anyone slap them, or grab them. He didn’t feel the need to stick to Roger’s side like glue; there were a few leers, sure, but...no one laid a hand on him. When he went to the bar, no one shoved him out of the way or tried to slap his ass, they just left him alone.

He could actually _ relax _here. 

One of the executives Misa introduced them to was a small man, even shorter than Freddie, somewhere in his sixties, if Freddie had to take a guess. He was very thin, with a little grey moustache and bright brown eyes. His shoes alone looked like they cost more than Freddie’s parents’ house.

“This is Keiji Fujioka,” Misa said. “He’s a big name over here,” she added with a little wink. “Like Mr Sheffield back in England.”

The mere _ mention _of Sheffield put Freddie back on guard, but Fujioka gave them all a quick bow; he shook Brian and Roger’s hands, and Deacy’s. He said something with a smile, pointing at Brian, and Misa laughed.

“He likes your pin,” she explained, causing Brian’s smile to widen.

When Fujioka turned to Freddie, he was once more taken by surprise; the old man didn’t shake his hand. Instead, he took Freddie’s hand and kissed his knuckles, saying something Freddie couldn’t understand. He held Freddie’s hand between both of his, patting it, before releasing him.

Freddie turned to Misa for translation.

“He says it’s an honour to meet such a beautiful Omega,” she said with a smile.

_ Oh. _

Still wary, Freddie glanced back to Fujioka, but the old man wasn’t leering. He was smiling, looking quite friendly.

“Thank you,” Freddie said, still a little wary; Misa translated, and Fujioka’s eyes lit up. He nodded at them all, smiled again, and was on his way.

That was new.

Roger slipped an arm around his waist; sure enough, his boyfriend was looking suspicious.

“Is everything alright?” Misa asked. “Did he offend you?”

“No, darling,” Freddie said. “It’s just- well…” He shrugged, leaning against Roger. “It’s not like this back home. People are usually a lot more rude.”

“Oh.” Misa’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

At this point he didn’t care if it made him sound pathetic, he had to ask- but Brian beat him to it.

“Why’s everyone being so...nice?” he asked. “Omegas are usually objectified to high heaven at home.”

“Well…” Misa pursed her lips. “How to explain this? Hm...Omegas are...Well, they’re not _ rare _ here, but they’re, ah- _ uncommon, _shall we say. We have a higher population of Alphas and Betas. It’s split pretty evenly in England, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Brian confirmed.

“There’s certainly still problems with Omega rights over here,” Misa said, somewhat apologetically. “But a lot of people can count the amount of Omegas they know on their fingers. They’re surprised to see you. They’re happy to see you.”

“Oh,” Freddie said quietly. That wasn’t what he’d expected. He wasn’t really sure _ what _he’d expected.

When Misa was distracted by another executive, Roger leaned down to whisper, “Is it bad I’m still waiting for everyone to act like perverts?”

“So am I,” Freddie admitted.

But they didn’t. Roger was congratulated on having “such a lovely Omega,” again and again; an Alpha singer rushed to hold the door to the gardens open for Freddie, and when anyone _ did _ talk to Freddie, it was _ finally _about his voice. 

“You have a gift,” one (admittedly drunk) executive said, slurring his English. He nodded as though to confirm his own statement. “Very talented indeed.”

As they all climbed into the limo at the end of the night, Freddie rested his head on Roger’s shoulder. They were all yawning, all more than ready for bed; Crystal was already asleep in his seat.

“Rog?” Freddie whispered.

“Hm?”

“I really like it here.”

“Yeah?” Roger asked with a sleepy grin.

“Yeah,” Freddie confirmed. He pulled Roger’s arm around him, pressing in closer. “I love it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original timeline, the boys went to Japan a little later, in March; this time they're sent sooner, since EMI wants to quickly make up for any "lost" money from Brian's illness and Freddie's pregnancy. And look, lore! Freddie loved Japan in real life, and I just couldn't see my Omega!Freddie adoring a country that treats him like crap- so here, at last, we have people fawning over him as he deserves. Japan still has it's own problems with Omega rights, but they're certainly in awe of him.


	20. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Japan only seems to get better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Japan chapter planned; after this we'll be heading back to England, and onward to Ridge Farm.

**Japan, 1975** **  
** ** _“Caviar and cigarettes, well versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice. She's a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam. Guaranteed to blow your mind. Anytime!” -Killer Queen, _ ** **Queen**

Show time. The boys were all crowded into one dressing room, as per usual. What had begun as a necessity had simply become a habit; it was so much more fun getting ready together. 

To Roger’s bemusement there was a huge screen in the corner; highly polished black wood patterned with the moon and stars.

“That’s pretty,” Deacy said.

“Oh, yes,” Hiro said with a smile. He draped Freddie’s first costume across the top.

“Er...What are you doing, darling?” Freddie asked. Hiro was obviously confused.

“Well, you need to change,” he said. He gestured to the screen. “That’s for your privacy.”

_ That _ was a first. Back in their college days they’d sometimes had to just arrive at the venue already in costume, because there was nowhere to change. Otherwise they were all crowded into one tiny room; they all _ lived _ together, it was nothing they hadn’t seen before. When they signed with EMI they were all still in one dressing room, but it wasn’t as if any _ privacy screens _were provided. Besides, anyone who worked for them soon learned the consequences of leering at Freddie.

_ It was their first big concert, and despite his swagger and grins, Roger was so nervous he felt sick. _

_ But what made him really sick was their newest assistants; as Freddie tugged his shirt off they all _ stared. _ Roger could hear them muttering together. He heard the word “slut” and, just like that, he was _fuming.

_ It was obvious the others heard it. Freddie froze, his hand just reaching for the black shirt he’d be wearing on stage, his other hand on his belt buckle. Deacy, in the process of tugging his boots on, glared at the team. Brian stood up abruptly, grabbing his long coat. He stood in front of Freddie and held the coat out, stretching it like a cape. Just like that, Freddie was blocked from view, and Brian glared at the assistants over his shoulder. _

_ They muttered sullenly, but when Roger sauntered over, they quieted down. One of them paled drastically. _

_ “I need to talk with you lot,” he said with a wolfish grin. _“Now.”

_ “You’ve only ten minutes ‘til show time,” one said. Roger grabbed the nearest by the arm, tugging him towards the door. _

_ “This won’t take long,” he promised. “All of you, with me, _ now, _ or do you want to do this in front of an audience?” _

_ They followed. Reluctantly, but still, they followed. _

_ By the end of their ‘chat’ they were all silent and twitchy. Two of them quit after the show. _

Freddie blinked at the screen. He looked vaguely amused.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, lips twitching. “But it’s alright.”

To Roger’s increasing amusement, when Freddie tugged his shirt off, Hiro and Yukkiteru quickly looked away. Yukkiteru took a quick peek, caught Roger’s eyes and blanched, though Roger had no intention of hitting the guy. Crystal snickered, Ratty just looked incredibly confused. 

In a way, Roger appreciated it. It wasn’t as if _ Freddie _cared about his “modesty,” let alone in front of his pack, but...It was a huge relief to have a team that weren’t gawping or leering. There were no whispered, perverted comments. No entitlement to be seen. The two Betas seemed genuinely sweet; as Freddie slipped on the “angel wings outfit” as they’d dubbed it, and asked Ratty for help in lacing it up, Hiro looked staggered.

“You’re not mad?” he asked Roger quietly.

Roger shrugged. “It’s _ Ratty, _” he said, pulling his own costume on.

Then Prenter was knocking on the door, calling for them to head to the stage. Roger linked hands with Freddie, and they went to put on a show.

Japan had high expectations. They’d better live up to them.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“And when you start to feel the rush, a crimson headache, aching blush, and you surrender to the touch, you'll know I can put on a show. I can put on a show. Don't you see what you're finding? This is heaven in hiding.” -Heaven In Hiding, _ ** **Halsey**

When Freddie woke up his head was _ throbbing, _as well as the mark on his neck. The muscles in his legs protested when he stretched out. He was alone in the bed, still naked, and he quite desperately didn’t want to get up.

Disgruntled, he glanced at the clock; it was ten in the morning. He should probably get up. _ Probably. _His throbbing head and sore throat told him it was a very bad idea to move.

He didn’t get an option. Brian was soon knocking on the door, informing him that they’d ordered breakfast.

The hungover part of him argued that food was a very bad idea. The rest of him said that whatever they’d ordered smelled _ fantastic. _

Sighing, he grabbed the first shirt his hands touched; it was Roger’s, a bright pink monstrosity patterned with glittering gold stars across the chest and hem. He was pretty sure Roger had bought it as a joke. At least, he _hoped _so. It was too big on Roger, so it was downright _ huge _on Freddie. It hung off one shoulder and fell down to his thighs, managing to completely hide his boxers from view.

He glanced in the mirror: his hair was a mess, his gaze was bleary and the mark on his neck was so painfully obvious.

Oh well, everyone else would be hungover too. It wasn’t like they could judge.

When he stumbled into the main room, Crystal wolf-whistled. His breath still _ reeked _of booze, he looked even worse than Freddie, but he was still perky. Freddie flopped into the seat next to Roger, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Jesus, Rog, were you trying to _ eat _him?” Crystal laughed.

Freddie expected Roger to laugh, or to cheerfully tell Crystal to fuck off. Maybe he’d grunt if he was too hungover.

Instead, Roger’s arm wrapped around his waist. Glee absolutely _ radiated _from him. Freddie glanced at him through his hair, and saw that Roger was grinning cockily.

That was when he finally registered who was sitting across from him.

Paul. Of course it was Paul.

Paul gripped the edge of the table, snarling. He’d gone red, positively _ oozing _rage.

Well, Freddie supposed it _ was _ obvious what they’d been up to last night. If it was anyone else, he might feel bad, but when had Paul _ ever _felt bad for making Freddie uncomfortable?

So Freddie only raised an eyebrow at Paul’s obvious jealousy; it was nothing new, really.

“Did you get _ any _sleep last night?” Deacy asked, also glancing at Paul.

“Not enough,” Freddie muttered, pouring himself coffee. Paul choked; Roger’s grin widened.

“Something wrong, Prenter?” Roger drawled.

“Not at all,” Paul said through clenched teeth.

Freddie had to bite back a smile at how blooming _ obvious _Roger was. Subtle simply wasn’t in his vocabulary. But Paul fell for it; he looked more and more furious. When Freddie’s shirt slipped off his shoulder again, he seemed incapable of looking away as he fixed it.

Then, when Freddie glanced up, Roger kissed him, pulling him so close that Freddie nearly fell into his lap.

Instantly, Paul said, “I have to go,” and stormed out. He slammed the door so hard that the paintings on the wall shook.

Finally, Roger released him, outright laughing.

“He’s not very subtle, huh?” Crystal asked.

“Never has been,” Roger said. “You’d think he’d take a hint by now and fuck off.”

“You think he’d take a blatant _ I’m taken, I’m not interested, leave me alone, _” Freddie grumbled, reaching for the bacon. He may as well eat while his stomach was behaving.

  
  
  
  
  


Paul didn’t return until the afternoon, when Misa arrived to take them out. There was a tea ceremony planned for today, a tour of some gardens, a photoshoot and yet another party.

By then, their hangovers had worn off. After a bath, they all looked much better.

“Ready, boys?” Misa asked brightly. Contrary to the rest of them, Paul was scowling- yet he didn’t look at Freddie once, as they made their way to the limo.

He didn’t look at Freddie for the rest of the day.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we're only dreaming. A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew. But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you.” -A Whole New World, _ ** **Aladdin**

The tea ceremony was more fun than Freddie had expected, and afterwards they were asked to film a message to their fans.

Typical Roger, he winked at Freddie and ran to mess around behind Brian. As Brian spoke to the camera, thanking everyone for their wonderful welcome, Roger jumped around behind him, pulling the silliest faces he could. Freddie and Deacy pressed their hands over their mouths to hide their laughter; even the crew were giggling. Grinning, Deacy ran to join Roger, jumping about behind Brian; Freddie could see the mirth shining in Brian’s eyes. He glanced at them, pulling faces at the camera, grinned, and did his level best to continue, though his voice cracked on a laugh.

Roger didn’t stop there. The crew turned to Freddie next and Roger outright _ beamed. _

“We’d just like to say thank you very much, for the wonderful reception, and- _ aah! _”

Roger ran at him, lifted him straight up and threw Freddie over his shoulder, spinning them in a circle.

_ “Rog!” _Freddie screamed, but he was laughing, laughing so hard he was breathless. “Thank you for the welcome!” Freddie repeated through his giggles, clinging to Roger for dear life.

“Sayonara!” Roger cried, slowing to a halt.

“Put me down,” Freddie said.

“No,” Roger said, grip tightening. “No, I really can’t do that.”

  
  
  
  
  


Afterwards, they were presented with a box each. Inside each one, was a beautiful kimono; they all had different colours and patterns, but they were all of such soft silk that Freddie was almost afraid to touch them.

“For you,” the man in charge of the tour said. “A welcome gift.”

Freddie’s was white and red, with koi fish leaping about at the bottom, swimming along in the bright blue water. Roger’s was a bold purple with gold and silver fans all around it, with a paler purple at the collar and hem. Deacy’s was a soft grey, scattered with pink cherry blossom petals, a pattern of cherry blossom trees at the bottom, and one larger cherry blossom tree on the back. Brian’s meanwhile was black with dozens of little red dragons, seemingly chasing each other.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” Brian said with a grin. Deacy stroked his like a cat, smiling softly.

“Maybe you can wear them to the photoshoot,” Misa suggested. It was a suggestion Freddie was happily on board with. He couldn’t wait to try his on.

  
  
  
  
  


The photoshoot was certainly different than those in England; for one, each boy was given his own dressing room, which felt odd. It was such a break from their norm, being alone. Roger kept glancing around, expecting his boys to be in the corner.

They didn’t put much make-up on him. Just some powder and a light touch of kohl. They fluffed his hair out, and offered him some rings to wear.

The photographer had liked Misa’s suggestion; all of them were in their kimonos. Brian looked more elegant than ever, his curls bouncing, the kimono swishing about his ankles. Deacy flapped his arms like wings, grinning when Roger and Brian laughed. They’d pulled some of Deacy’s hair back in tiny plaits, leaving the rest loose.

Roger’s heart skipped a beat when Freddie came skipping out.

He had more eyeliner on than the rest of them, winged as usual. His hair had been left in it’s natural wavy state that morning, but the hair and make-up team had straightened it, tying it up (though some stray strands framed Freddie's face) and piercing it through with a gold hair-pin, shaped like a pinwheel.

But it was more than that. It was the way he was grinning without hiding his teeth. It was the way his eyes were shining. It was the bounce in his step, the way he held his head high again, confident.

“What do you think, darlings?” he asked brightly, turning on the spot.

“You look fantastic, you know you do,” Deacy said.

“You look happy,” Roger said softly.

Freddie’s grin widened.

“I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft boys ❤️  
The "Heaven In Hiding" section is actually a throw-back to "Keep On Rocking" wherein the boys let Paul believe Freddie and Roger had slept together the night before, and laugh about his obvious jealousy.


	21. Immortals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the recording of A Night At The Opera to begin. Roger's not sure what he expected from Ridge Farm, but it sure wasn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The Ridge Farm chapters begin at last!
> 
> The scene in Foster's office is, of course, based heavily on the one in the movie. I had to actually go re-watch it for this 😂

**June, London England, 1975** **   
** ** _“See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me, and no-one knows how far it goes. If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me, one day I'll know. If I go, there's just no telling how far I'll go.” -How Far I’ll Go, _ ** **Auli'i Cravalho**

To say Freddie was disappointed to leave Japan would be an understatement. He was happy to be home, don’t get him wrong, but…

But the difference was obvious right away. There was suddenly a lot more leering (and sneering); one of the stewards on the flight tapped Freddie’s ass on his way back from the bathroom. Their taxi driver literally  _ shoved  _ their cases into Freddie’s arms when he reached their flat, and on the entire drive he’d only addressed Roger, acting as if Freddie wasn't there at all.

He had the nerve to look pissed when Roger didn’t tip him.

Roger gave him an icy smile.

“I don’t pay people who are rude to my boyfriend,” he said, slamming the taxi door shut. The driver pulled off, though he yelled abuse back at them until he rounded the corner.

“Home sweet home,” Freddie said flatly, struggling to keep his hold on all their luggage. He already wanted to go back to Japan.

“We can always go on a holiday there,” Roger offered, as if he could read Freddie's mind. He took half the cases, the smile he gave Freddie was much softer. “You seemed a lot happier over there.”

“It was just...It was nice to not be constantly looking over my shoulder, you know, darling?”  _ And,  _ he thought,  _ It was nice to be sharing a space with Brian and Deacy again. _

That was another adjustment; their Deacy was  _ married,  _ in a little house of his own, with a baby on the way. God, Ronnie was due  _ next month.  _ He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. His stomach still tightened unpleasantly when he thought about it for too long.

As if Deacy’s move had flipped a switch, Roger and Freddie had finally found their own place; a much nicer, much  _ larger  _ flat, nearly at the top floor with a balcony, which Freddie had insisted was a must-have. It had three bedrooms, though one of those rooms had become the music room; the other was a guest-room. They had more than enough space now and, since they  _ owned  _ it instead of renting, they could finally decorate any way they wanted. That was certainly a bonus. The beige wallpaper at their old place, and the dark carpets, had driven Freddie insane.

And Brian, to their surprise, had invited Chrissie to move into his new flat with him. She’d accepted. Now, don’t get Freddie wrong, he knew Brian loved Chrissie, he was just surprised that  _ Brian  _ had suggested it, when he was usually the one who fretted about if they were moving  _ too fast  _ or not.

Honestly, he suspected Brimi was having trouble adjusting too, though he’d never actually  _ say  _ so. He knew Brian too well: if Freddie called him out, he’d clam up or get all  _ snippy.  _ Either way he’d deny it.

Well, plan of action: unpack, rest, order take-away for dinner. Collect the cats from Mary tomorrow. And then, the day after, they had a meeting with Foster. Joy of joys.

They came home with much more luggage than they’d had when they left. 

“Did you  _ have  _ to buy so much?” Roger asked, eyeing the bags and cases warily.

“Yes,” Freddie said, nose in the air. Happily, he set the new little yellow vase on the coffee table. There was also a new tea set, scented candles, a tiny golden statue of a cat prowling, three red fans that he’d been told were meant to be pinned to the wall, and a painting of Mount Fuji. 

Then there were the  _ clothes;  _ shoes, jeans, shirts, two more kimonos, slippers, and a thin silver bracelet than their photographer had actually given to him after a ‘shoot; he’d insisted Brian and Roger keep the necklaces his team had given them, and insisted Deacy keep the bracelet that matched Freddie’s. They’d all accepted with smiles, but Freddie knew Deacy rarely bothered with jewellery unless it was on stage. Most likely, that bracelet would end up on Veronica’s wrist.

“You’re hopeless,” Roger said, shaking his head. “That’ll never all fit in your wardrobe.”

“That’s what yours is for,” Freddie teased, laughing at Roger’s indignant squawk. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Are you ready for some entertainment? Are you ready for a show? Gonna rock you, gonna roll you, get you dancing in the aisles! Jazz you, razzmatazz you, with a little bit of style. Come on, let me entertain you!” -Let Me Entertain You, _ ** **Queen**

Being in Foster’s office was awkward enough, but it was always  _ worse  _ when someone was late. Freddie and Roger were fifteen minutes late. Foster, impatient as always, rang their flat. No answer. Hopefully they were already on the way.

The silence was  _ suffocating.  _ Not that Brian  _ wanted  _ to talk to Foster, but he felt too tense to even talk to Deacy. Speaking of, Deacy squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at the door every now and then. That was the thing about this office: it had a way of stealing their voices. Even with their own victories, there was something about this office, about this  _ building,  _ that made Brian feel very small indeed.

Thank God, Freddie and Roger came hurrying in. Freddie was carrying a vinyl under his arm, eyes shining. Roger had an air of amused anticipation about him.

Huh. They’d discussed it, but Brian didn’t think Freddie would actually  _ do  _ it. Then again, it was Freddie, so was he  _ really  _ all that surprised?

“Sorry we’re late,” Freddie said breezily. Prenter scowled and looked away. Miami smirked at them.

“Saved you a seat, boys” Reid said, gesturing to the free spot on the sofa and the armchair.

“Cheers,” Roger said brightly, as if they were right on time. He lounged on the sofa next to Deacy, looking all too pleased with himself. Foster was already glaring. Freddie perched in the armchair, and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair like a hairband. 

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Foster said with a pointed look. “We can start. So- next album. We really need another hit, something like  _ Killer Queen,  _ but  _ bigger. _ You keep going on that you really want to go all-out on this album, yeah? Let’s hear it then, what’s the plan?”

“To not reproduce  _ Killer Queen, _ ” Roger said.

“We’re going to do even better,” Freddie said, jumping out of his seat. He pranced over to the record player, slipping his vinyl into place. Ah, here came the moment they’d discussed. Foster likely expected a rock ‘n roll album. Maybe some Hendrix. What began to play, was…

“That’s opera,” Foster said flatly. Unimpressed. 

“Opera,” Reid repeated; he looked confused, but managed a smile.

_“...Opera,”_ Prenter said, apparently snapping out of his sulk. He stared at Freddie in surprise.

“There seems to be an echo in here,” Deacy quipped. Freddie caught Brian’s eye, winked, and began to prance around as if he was on stage. He waved his arms in time with the music, he punched Foster’s desk, he spun on the spot, he (for whatever reason) grabbed the coaster off Foster’s desk and threw it like a frisbee. Reid caught it.

Roger waved his arm like a conductor, smiling serenely at Foster. Brian couldn’t help but nod his head in time to the (admittedly epic) music.

Freddie finally turned the volume down, turning to Foster with a triumphant smile, as if he’d just proven a great point. Reid put the coaster back.

“Like we’ve said, we don’t want to just keep repeating ourselves, doing the same formula over and over,” Brian said.

Freddie nodded. “Formulas are boring.”

“Formulas  _ work, _ ” Foster said with a sigh. “Let’s stick with them.”

“Hm...No thanks,” Roger said, folding his arms.

“Here’s the plan,” Freddie said. “We want to call the album  _ A Night At The Opera. _ ” 

Foster sighed again. “Mercury, are you aware that no-one actually  _ likes  _ opera?” He turned to Roger. “Can’t you  _ ever  _ shut him up?”

“I like opera,” Miami said icily. Foster shut up. Reid rather looked like he was regretting all of his life choices. 

“It won’t  _ be  _ an opera album,” Freddie said impatiently, hands on his hips. “It’s a rock and roll album, darling, make no mistake. But it will have the  _ scale  _ of opera, understand? The…”

“The pathos of Greek tragedy,” Brian chimed in. 

“The wit of Shakespeare,” Deacy added with a cheeky smile.

“It’ll be a musical  _ experience, _ ” Freddie said. A vein was starting to throb in Foster’s forehead. “It won’t be just some...some run of the mill record. It’ll be something for  _ everyone,  _ something…” Freddie bit his lip, clearly lost for a moment. “Something that...That everyone will feel belongs to them. We’ll mix genres, cross boundaries! We’ll-”

“We'll speak in fucking tongues if we want to,” Roger cut in with a smug grin. Freddie nodded, smiling.

“No-one knows what  _ Queen  _ is because it doesn’t mean one thing,” Deacy said firmly. "And that's the way we want it."

“Exactly,” Brian said. "Where's the fun in being predictable?"

For a moment, as Foster stared at them all, it was quiet, bar the music still playing. Eventually, Foster scowled and turned to Reid.

“And what do you think?”

“I…” Reid huffed, still looking utterly baffled. He shrugged. “I agree with the boys.”

“Of course you do.” He turned to Miami. “Beach?”

Miami smiled. “Fortune favours the bold.”

Foster turned to them again, still scowling. Freddie bounced on his toes, and Foster snapped, “Sit down, Mercury, you’re giving me a headache. Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Do  _ not  _ make me regret this.”

Grinning, Freddie sat.

“See, Foster, you can be fun sometimes.”

Foster glared at him. “Don’t push your luck, Omega.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July, Ridge Farm, 1975** **   
** ** _“They say we are what we are, but we don't have to be. I'm bad behavior, but I do it in the best way. I'll be the watcher (watcher) of the eternal flame, I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams. Ooh, I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass (glass, glass). Ooh, I try to picture me without you but I can't.” -Immortals, _ ** **Fall Out Boy**

Deacy had been loathe to leave Veronica so close to her due date, but what could he do? EMI had paid for the recording studio, so they had to go. In any case, Brian, Roger, Crystal, Ratty  _ and  _ Roy had promised to drive him home as soon as they got the news that she was in labour.

And, okay, Roger knew they were going to a farm. He  _ got  _ that. He just hadn’t expected it to be  _ so  _ isolated. It was a big farm, sprawling even, but the nearest village was a good half-hour’s drive away, if you could even  _ call  _ it a village. It seemed to just have one main street with a few shops; the rest of the buildings were all houses. 

There were a few other farms nearby, Roger could see them in the distance. They were just tiny brown specks in the hills from where he was standing.

It was raining when they arrived, the mud stuck to his boots- his  _ white  _ boots, fuck his life, he’d never be able to clean them. He was just glad he’d worn his fur coat, it was fucking  _ freezing.  _ It was dank, and muddy, and _empty. _Not the most welcoming of sights, honestly.

He could have  _ sworn  _ that rooster perched on the fence was glaring at him, bloody hell.

“ _ This  _ is a recording studio?” Roger asked doubtfully. He turned to help Freddie down from the van, his hands on his boyfriend’s waist. Freddie peered all about him, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Well, the idea was to get away from all distractions,” Prenter said, frowning at him, as he hauled some cases inside. Crystal and Ratty followed.

“Well,” Roy said, hands in his pockets. “Plenty of fresh air, eh?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Okay, the main house was pretty. It was all polished wood with thick rugs on the floors; the curtains were all floral downstairs, the lamps were all brass. There were antimacassars on the armchairs, and a woolen blanket on the sofa. There was an old-fashioned brick fireplace with a pile of wood next to it. He spotted a sewing machine in the corner of the living room. It was all very old-fashioned, but spick and span, even cleaner than his mum’s place.

Prenter pushed past them upstairs, still clutching the luggage.

“Right, you and Freddie are in here,” he said, jerking his head at an open door. It wasn’t a very big room, really, but it was painted a light sky-blue, and all the furniture was white.

“Biggest room,” Crystal called over his shoulder with a wink. Prenter’s scowl deepened. He didn’t look at him or Freddie- in fact, as Freddie stepped into the bedroom, Prenter stepped back, carefully avoiding him.

Roger’s eyes narrowed. Prenter had been acting  _ weird  _ since Japan. He sometimes still caught him staring at Freddie, but...But he never tried to touch Freddie anymore. He rarely spoke to him, he certainly never complimented him anymore, or rushed to offer aid.

It was a relief. It was  _ weird,  _ but it was a relief all the same. Maybe when they left EMI they could get rid of the guy entirely.

“What do you think then?” Brian asked, leaning against the doorframe of his room. 

“I’m not sure what I expected,” Deacy said, poking his head out of his own room. “But it wasn’t this.”

“I like it,” Freddie said with a bright grin. He opened the window and leaned out. “Oh, look, there’s sheep!”

“Fascinating,” Roger drawled. He tugged Freddie back in. “Do you really think we can record here?”

Freddie looked at them all with that familiar gleam in his eye, that usual stubborn clench in his jaw.

“Darlings, we can do  _ anything. _ ”

  
He sounded so sure of himself. Roger couldn’t  _ help  _ but believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, baby Robert incoming...😉


	22. Safe And Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Robert Deacon leads to Roger and Freddie making an important decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, initially planning this story: Eh, it shouldn't be too long.  
Me, realising this will likely be the longest story in the series so far: ...Sorry not sorry.

**July 18th, Ridge Farm, 1957** **   
** ** _“You will come of age with our young nation; we'll bleed and fight for you, we'll make it right for you. If we lay a strong enough foundation we'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you, and you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday, yeah, you'll blow us all away. Someday, someday.” -Dear Theodosia, _ ** **Hamilton**

They’d been at Ridge Farm for nearly two weeks when the call arrived. It was only six in the morning, but Veronica’s mother rang, frantic.

Veronica was in labour.

“I’ll be right there,” Deacy said; he looked petrified, but his eyes were shining. When he hung up he looked at them all, dazed. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he said blankly. “Oh God. Oh God, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“No time for that, Deacy,” Ratty said. He threw Deacy’s jacket to him, pulling his own on. “Come on, we’ve gotta get you to Ronnie.”

Deacy left with rushed promises to ring them as soon as the baby arrived; Freddie hugged him tightly, Brian pat him on the back, Roger ruffled his hair; Crystal shouted,  _ “Good luck, mate!”  _ while Roy continued to look stunned.

Just like that, Deacy and Ratty were gone.

Roger was happy for him; he was excited, he was nervous...And a sudden wave of jealousy choked him. It  _ hurt.  _ Damn it, he thought he was over this.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” Freddie said, hugging himself.

“Yeah, me neither,” Brian said. He looked as knackered as Roger felt, but he still smiled. “I’ll pop the kettle on,” he added, which was such a  _ Brian  _ thing to say that Roger couldn’t help but laugh.

“Cheers,” Crystal said. “Anyone hungry?”

Roger shook his head. Prenter muttered something about sleep and went back upstairs. Freddie ignored the seats and sat on the kitchen counter instead, staring at the ceiling. Brian, by contrast, suddenly seemed full of nervous energy; he paced, he didn’t sit still for long. He tapped his foot and hummed under his breath until Roger wanted to scream at him to shut up.

But that wasn’t fair either. They were all nervous; it was hardly Brian’s fault that Roger felt like shit.

It was still a struggle to keep a smile on his face.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They didn’t hear anything until five in the evening. When the phone rang, Brian, Roger and Freddie  _ sprinted  _ to answer it. Brian and his damn long legs got there first, but Roger and Freddie huddled as close as they could; and sure enough, they could hear Deacy, half-laughing, half-crying by the sound of it.

“We’ve a boy!” he cried. “His name’s Robert!”

_ Ouch,  _ Roger thought with a flinch. A boy. They had a boy. It felt like a slap in the face. He saw Freddie wince, but as always, Freddie focussed on how Deacy was doing.

“Is the baby okay? Is Deacy okay? What about Ronnie?” Freddie asked frantically. He shook Brian, who impatiently waved his hands away, but he repeated Freddie’s questions.

“Everything’s fine,” Deacy reassured them. He let out a little stunned laugh, and Roger could so easily picture him, slumped against the wall and running a hand through his hair. Probably all but vibrating as the adrenaline wore off. “You’ll come down right?” he asked. “As soon as you can?”

“Obviously,” Roger scoffed; he snatched the phone from Brian. “Hey, Deacs.”

“Rog! I-  _ God,  _ Roger, I feel like I’m gonna faint,” Deacy said, somewhat frantically. “I...This is  _ real. _ ”

“Just remember which end the nappy goes on and you should be fine,” Roger said. “We’ll be there first thing in the morning, okay, mate?”

“Okay. Listen, Roger, I-”

He knew that tone. He didn’t want to hear anymore apologies, or send Deacy into some sort of spiral. “I’ll put Freddie on,” he said quickly, thrusting the phone into his boyfriend’s hands.

“Deacy!” Just like that, Freddie’s voice was softer and sweeter, the tone he always used for Deacy. “Darling, hello…”

Roger watched him; Freddie’s smile wobbled, but his voice was steady as he reassured Deacy that he  _ could  _ handle this, he’d be completely alright, and there was no use getting himself into a silly state like this.

And Brian was watching both of them.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Roger said honestly. “I- I don’t think so.” Because this  _ hurt.  _ Because Heydar should have been four months old by now. Would they have left him with Jer and Bomi, or Winifred? Would they have brought him here with them? Roger liked to think they would have brought him.

But they didn’t have that option. He wondered if anyone else could hear the slight crack in Freddie’s voice.

“It’ll be alright,” Brian said, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah,” Roger said. “‘Course it will.” He knew it would, but that didn’t stop his chest from aching.

Crystal, Roy, and Prenter were watching them.

“Everything okay then?” Roy asked.

“They’ve a boy,” Brian said. “They’ve named him Robert.”

“Kid’s alright?” Crystal asked; Roger turned away as Brian explained that  _ yes,  _ everyone was perfectly healthy. He could practically  _ feel  _ Roy’s pitying glance.

Freddie had his back to them all, but from where he was standing, Roger could just about see his face; he could see the pain on Freddie’s face, before he closed his eyes, apparently steadying himself. Sure enough, when Freddie opened his eyes, his smile was back in place, even though Deacy couldn’t see him. Sure enough, he kept talking sweetly, reassuring Deacy that everything would be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby even when the music’s gone, gone. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.” -Safe And Sound, _ ** **Me Vs Gravity (cover)**

Walking into the hospital the next day felt like a dream; Freddie kept expecting to wake up. He felt like he was  _ floating,  _ none of this quite felt like reality. Even the lilies in his arms didn’t feel solid, he half-expected them to dissolve into thin air any second now.

He was thrilled for Deacy, of course he was, it was  _ Deacy,  _ but he couldn’t quite let go of the notion that this would hurt less if the baby had been a girl. Just maybe. Or maybe it would feel like someone was punching him repeatedly in the stomach either way.

The receptionist recognised them, she got all flustered and giggly. The second receptionist had to give them directions instead, shooting her colleague an unimpressed look.

Roger, true to form, winked at her, sending the poor woman into a fit of giggles again.

“Really?” Freddie asked once they reached the lift.

“I had to,” Roger said.

“Do you have an off button?” Brian asked; he had a small cuddly duck toy in his hands.

“If he does I haven’t found it, darling,” Freddie said, and he couldn’t help but be relieved by how cheerful he sounded. His stage persona acted like a shield; he held his head high, he let his hips sway, his very bearing screamed  _ Don’t fuck with me.  _ Because he was Freddie fucking Mercury, thank you very much. He could do anything.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to cry when they reached Veronica’s room.

She was sitting up in bed, with a blue-wrapped bundle in her arms. She and Deacy looked at baby Robert like he was the rarest, most precious treasure in the world. They both looked awed. Veronica was clearly exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, she still looked pale and wan, but Freddie had never seen her smile so widely before. She was still glowing.

“Hey,” Brian said. Veronica smiled all the more at the sight of them; Deacy jumped up and ran to them, pulling the three of them into a tight group hug.

“Oh, mind the lilies!”

“Sorry,” Deacy said, but he didn’t pull back. If anything, it felt like he held on tighter. Freddie didn’t mind; he knew his nails must be digging into Deacy’s back.

“Are you going to actually let them see him?” Veronica asked with a laugh. 

Deacy took the flowers, laying them on the bedside table; Brian took the only other chair, leaning over to coo at the baby. Holding his breath, Freddie made his way over to look.

He wanted to cry. It was a real struggle to not cry. Robert was so  _ tiny,  _ pink-faced with a little button nose, and a thatch of fluffy brown hair, snoozing away. He didn’t realise babies could be so little. He almost looked like a doll. But no, he was no doll, he was very much so  _ real,  _ snuffling in his sleep, his little mouth hanging open.

“Oh…” Freddie breathed; his eyes were starting to sting.

Veronica’s face was instantly creased with worry.

“Fred, are you okay?”

Freddie nodded. Deacy took his hand.

But then Roger’s breathing hitched, and Freddie turned to him; his big blue eyes were filled with tears, his lip trembled- and he ran from the room before Freddie could reach him.

“Shit,” Brian muttered.

Deacy stepped forward, but Freddie brushed past him.

“I’ll handle it, darling,” he said, shooting Deacy a quick smile. “You stay here.”

And he hurried after Roger, trying hard to pretend that he wasn’t shaking.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Thankfully, Roger hadn’t gone far. Freddie found him down the corridor, nearly at the lift. He was leaning against the wall, staring at the floor. He was crying silently, but crying all the same.

“Darling?”

Roger didn’t look up, not until Freddie took his hand; then he pulled Freddie in, holding him tightly. He could feel Roger shudder, he could feel Roger’s tears soaking into his hair, and he guided Roger down to the mark on his neck, letting him breathe their mixed scents in. It seemed to do the trick; bit by bit, Roger stopped shaking, but he still held on so tight that it was beginning to hurt.

Freddie didn’t say so. He just ran his hand through Roger’s hair again and again, shushing him.

“I’m such a shit friend,” Roger mumbled. “I shouldn’t be so jealous.”

“So am I,” Freddie admitted. He was so jealous it hurt; part of him wanted to flee back to Ridge Farm, and throw himself into his work until he forgot all about everything else. But he couldn’t do that. He  _ wouldn’t  _ do that. He wouldn’t ever do that to Deacy.

“I want one,” Roger said.

Despite everything (or maybe it was because of everything, he wasn’t sure anymore), Freddie felt nervous for even suggesting it.

“We could try.”

At that, Roger pulled back, staring at him, eerily blank. But Freddie pushed forward.

“We could try,” he repeated. “I mean- not right  _ now,  _ not if you think it’s too soon, darling, but…” He shrugged, somewhat helplessly, floundering, uncertain if he was making this  _ worse  _ or not. “But I want one too. So, we could try, couldn’t we?”

Before he could say any more, Roger kissed him so hard he stumbled backwards, one hand tangled in Freddie’s hair.

“I love you,” Roger said when he finally pulled back. “I love you  _ so much,  _ you have no idea.” His tone was downright  _ fierce,  _ as if he was daring Freddie to argue, but he looked like he was going to cry again.

All the same, Freddie smiled, cupping Roger’s face in his hands.

“I think I have some idea, darling.”

“Guys?” There was Deacy, looking at them worriedly and wringing his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Roger said, wiping at the tear-tracks on his cheeks. He gave his usual cocky grin. “Better get a headstart on spoiling this kid rotten, eh?” He marched ahead of them, back into Veronica’s room.

Deacy turned to Freddie.

“Is he really okay?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Freddie said. He linked their arms, smiling up at him. “But he will be.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Holding Robert was both terrifying and amazing. Roger was certain he’d drop the kid, or break him, or- or  _ something,  _ he was sure he’d fuck it up somehow. He was sure the kid wouldn’t like him.

But Robert, wide away now, only blinked up at him calmly as Roger fumbled, uncertain of what to do. With Veronica’s guidance the baby was soon settled in Roger’s arms, and after that it was hard to look away from him.

“He looks like you, Deacs,” he said.

“See, I keep saying that,” Veronica said. “But John insists he looks like me.”

For such a tiny baby, Robert was surprisingly heavy. And warm. And almost frighteningly soft. He was the most delicate thing Roger had ever seen, let alone held. 

He was filled with awe as it was, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when Deacy handed Robert to Freddie.

Unlike Roger, Freddie seemed to know exactly what to do. He cradled the baby close, looking totally at ease. Roger wondered if he was frightened at all. He sure didn’t  _ look  _ frightened. He looked...Natural. As if he’d been doing this for years.

It just drove it home; he wanted one. He wanted a baby of his own, he wanted one with Freddie.

And they were going to try again.  _ Christ,  _ they were actually going to try again.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. What if something went wrong again? What if Freddie got really sick? What if they got stuck with someone who didn’t look after them again?

_ Don’t think about it,  _ Roger told himself furiously. For now, he’d focus on the good things: one of his best friends had a baby. They were going to record their best album yet.

And he and Freddie were going to try to have a baby again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated for a while on if Roger or Freddie should flee the room; in the end, it felt right to let Roger have his mini-breakdown and be comforted.
> 
> Next time, we have Ridge Farm shenanigans! That cupboard is just waiting to be climbed into 😉


	23. Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Egos clash, and cupboards are climbed into. Meanwhile, Paul makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Paul being a voyeur towards the end of the chapter; the dude's a creep.

**July 27th, Ridge Farm, 1975** **  
** ** _“I could lie, could lie, could lie. Everything that kills me makes me feel alive. Lately I been, I been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be. Baby, I been, I been prayin' hard; said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars.” -Counting Stars, _ ** **One Republic**

The weather had taken a turn; it had been cold and raining when they first arrived on the farm, but by now it was sweltering. The nights were still freezing, but the days were so hot that John was finding it hard to concentrate. The heat didn’t exactly help everyone’s tempers, especially stuck in such close quarters. Add on that, unlike London, they couldn’t just fuck off for a while until their tempers cooled, and it was a disaster waiting to happen. The nearest village was a half-hour’s drive away, and not really worth the drive. They’d checked the pub, it was awful.

It was only a matter of time until someone snapped. John wasn’t surprised it was Brian and Roger.

They were once more arguing over their latest songs; _ Sweet Lady, _ and _ I’m In Love With My Car. _ If you asked John, they were _ both _being stupid. Sue him, but he didn’t think either song was all that great. He was just glad the two Alphas weren’t demanding he take sides yet.

_ “You call me sweet like I’m some kind of cheese!?” _Roger scoffed. “Do you even hear yourself?”

_ “With my hand on your greasegun,” _Brian snarked. “Oh yeah, that’s very subtle, isn’t it?”

“It’s a _ metaphor, _Brian!”

“Yes, I’m sure Freddie just _ loves _ being compared to a car.” Brian folded his arms, glaring at Roger, who’d gone bright red. God, if looks could kill they’d _ both _ be dead.

“Look, Rog, it’s just...a bit weird,” John put it. He couldn’t help himself; smirking, he added, “What _ exactly _are you doing to that ‘car?’” He should have known better, really. Roger’s jaw twitched, his fists were clenching and unclenching; he was clearly seconds away from snarling.

Okay, joke’s aside, maybe he should try and calm them down.

He didn’t get the chance. Brian just _ had _to open his big mouth.

“I know why you’re mad,” Brian said. “You’re mad your song isn’t strong enough.”

It was hardly the most hurtful thing he’d said so far, but Roger snapped. He grabbed a fistful of (thankfully cold) bacon, and threw it straight into Brian’s face.

“Is that strong enough!?” he barked- and true to form, he swept _ everything _ off the counter. John was left holding his cup of coffee, tiredly wondering why he bothered. How did he get himself into these situations? Why did Alphas have to be so goddamn _ angry? _

And then Roger went for the coffee machine, poised to throw it across the room.

_ “NOT THE COFFEE MACHINE!” _John and Brian yelled. Thank God, Roger actually listened, but he looked ready to murder them both.

Of course, that was when Freddie came in, yawning and running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry I’m late, I-”

“Nope,” John said. He instantly grabbed Freddie, throwing the Omega over his shoulder with ease. “Nope, no, we’re out of here.” He ran for it. Freddie wasn’t exactly happy about being lifted like a sack of flour.

“John _ Deacon, _you put me down!” 

There was another crash from inside, and Freddie stopped thrashing against him. He froze completely.

“Deacy, what the hell are they doing?” he demanded.

“Being boneheaded Alphas,” John said tiredly. He set Freddie on his feet. “Throwing an Omega into the mix sounded like a bad idea.”

There was another, louder crash, followed by Brian’s furious scream of _ “FUCK YOU, ROGER!” _ John would be avoiding that mess with a ten-foot pole, thank you very much. If Brian was shouting like that there was no stopping them any time soon. They were and well and truly in Alpha rages. Their egos would only continue to clash; they _ definitely _ would have dragged John into it and demanded he pick a side. If Freddie walked into that they’d only get _ worse, _ as their instincts demand they show off their strength, their ability to protect and provide, in a warped effort to impress the only Omega around. Add on that he smelled like _ Roger, _and it would certainly turn into a bloodbath. They’d simply have to wear themselves out.

Stupid Alpha brains.

“They’re Neanderthals,” Freddie sighed.

“You’ve got that right.”

Freddie winced at another crash, another scream. That was definitely Roger screaming about feeding Brian’s body to the chickens. 

“Well,” Freddie said with forced brightness. “How about we go work on your song, darling?”

John couldn’t help but relax at the thought. His song for Veronica was coming along well, if he said so himself.

Happy for the distraction, John followed Freddie to the recording booth.

  
  
  
  


** _“All I ever wanted was the world. I can't help that I need it all, the primadonna life, the rise and fall. You say that I'm kind of difficult, but it's always someone else's fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe, you can count on me to misbehave.” -Primadonna Girl, _ ** **Marina And The Diamonds **

When Freddie and Deacy eventually made their way back inside, all was silent.

“They’ve killed each other,” Deacy said flatly.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Freddie said, but he had to admit, the silence was unnerving. Roy and the others were still in the recording booth, and Freddie suddenly wished they’d brought at least _ one _of them as a human shield.

The kitchen was a wreck. There were broken plates and cups all over the floor, food splattered on the walls, orange juice _ soaked _the countertops...And Brian looked even worse. That looked like a chunk of scrambled eggs in his hair. Freddie had never seen him look so utterly and completely fed up before. Considering he’d seen Brian recovering from hepatitis, that was saying something.

“Your boyfriend’s an idiot,” he informed Freddie. He was sitting on the counter, and he looked at his food-stained shirt dolefully.

“...Okay.” Freddie glanced around. No Roger. Oh God, maybe Brian really _ did _kill him. “Brimi? Where’s Rog?”

Brian pointed to a row of cupboards.

For a moment, Freddie didn’t understand. Then it hit him.

“Oh, for _ fuck’s sake, _” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re kidding me,” Deacy gasped. “How did he even _ fit? _”

“More importantly, why didn’t you just drag him out?” 

“He’s locked in,” Brian said.

“Oh, come off it, lovie.”

“I’m serious, Fred.”

Freddie glared at the cupboards and marched over, kneeling down. “Roger?” He knocked. “Are you in there?”

“Yup,” came Roger’s muffled voice. 

_ “Why?” _

“I’m defending my song!”

Lord help him, he was in love with an utter _ idiot. _

“How in the world is _ this _ defending your song?” Freddie demanded. He tugged on the cupboard doors; he wasn’t sure if Roger somehow managed to _ actually _lock them, or if he was holding them closed for the inside, but they barely budged. He tugged so hard he ended up falling flat on his back; he did his best to ignore Brian and Deacy’s sniggers.

“Darling, this is ridiculous!” Freddie sat up straight, glaring at the cupboard. “Just come out!”

“I’m not coming out until I get at _ least _the B-side!”

_ Oh hell no. _

“You are _ not _putting that car-fucking son on the B-side,” Freddie snapped.

“Then I guess I’m staying here,” Roger said. Freddie could so easily imagine him scowling, folding his arms and doing his best to look haughty. It almost made him smile. _ Almost. _

“Told you Fred wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a car,” Brian said, swinging his legs.

That was news to him.

“Pardon?” He looked back to the cupboard. “Rog, is that song about me?”

“...Maybe.” Roger’s tone was wary.

“Oh…” Well, that was...weirdly sweet. In its own way.

“Nuh-uh, do _ not _weaken, Freddie!” Deacy tugged him away from the cupboard. “Don’t fall for it.”

“But-”

_ “No,” _Brian and Deacy said.

Freddie did the mature thing and stayed pouting on the floor. Roger did the mature thing and stayed in the cupboard.

“Fred, come on sweetheart, we can totally take them,” he said.

Despite himself, Freddie grinned. “I think you’re on your own, darling,” he said.

“Traitor.”

  
  
  
  


The afternoon wore on. One hour in, Freddie sighed, and said “Roggie, if you come out of there, I’ll do that thing you wanted to try.”

There was a long pause. The cupboard opened a crack. “Really?”

“Really.”

He swore could _ feel _the temptation radiating off Roger. But then the door snapped shut. “Not today, Mercury.”

Freddie threw a mangled slice of toast at the cupboard. “See if I ever do anything kinky for you again, Blondie!”

“What the hell did he want that _ you _said no to?” Brian asked.

“Don’t say a word,” Deacy warned. He looked vaguely green. “I don’t want to know.”

  
  
  
  


Two hours in Deacy kicked the cupboard. Brian made all sorts of threats, most of which involved destroying Roger’s drums, or killing him in his sleep. Freddie cajoled and bribed, Deacy swore he’d never side with Roger in a fight again if he didn’t come out _ right now. _

Nothing worked.

It stayed that way well into the evening. When Ratty tried to enter the kitchen he was shooed away; in the end, their poor assistants were forced to drive to the village for dinner.

Eventually, Deacy sighed and said, “We have to give in, don’t we?”

Brian had his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling. He groaned, but nodded.

Freddie stormed over to the cupboard and kicked it as hard as he could.

“Fucking _ watch _it!” Roger barked.

“You can have the fucking B-side!” Freddie growled. “Now _ get out _before you suffocate to death!”

Just like that, the doors swung open. Roger was curled up impossibly small; it looked painful. The vengeful part of Freddie hoped it was. The bastard was _ grinning. _

“Knew you’d see reason, gorgeous.”

“Fuck yourself,” Freddie said haughtily, hands on hips. “Because you’re sure not fucking me tonight.”

“You can bunk with me,” Deacy offered with a beatific smile.

“See that? Deacy’s much nicer to me.”

Roger crawled out with some difficulty. Brian laughed; Deacy graciously let Freddie perch on his lap. No one made any move to help.

“You’re a bastard,” Brian said. “A complete dickhead. You know that, right?”

“And I’m proud of it,” Roger said.

  
  
  
  


It was no surprise they needed a cuddle pile after that. Paul poked his head out of the living room (Freddie hadn’t even heard him come back), looking utterly baffled at the sight of them. To be fair, Brian and Roger _ were _covered in food stains, and Roger was a sweaty mess from staying in that cupboard. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Having an orgy, can’t you tell?” Freddie said cheerfully; he laughed at the look on Paul’s face, strutting after the others.

They ended up in his and Roger’s room; he and Deacy shoved Brian and Roger into the middle of the pile for once.

“You have the most making up to do,” Deacy said. They both looked a little put-out at first (it _ was _a change from their norm), but after a moment they curled up together, pulling Freddie and Deacy in so they were practically on top of them.

“Sorry for all the shouting,” Brian said. “And for throwing the orange juice at you.”

“Sorry for throwing that bacon at you,” Roger said. “And for threatening to cut the Red Special’s strings.”

Freddie winced. “Darling, you _ didn’t. _”

“How are you still _ alive? _” Deacy demanded.

“I didn’t _ actually _do it!” Roger said impatiently. “I know I’d be six feet under if I did.”

“Try twenty feet,” Brian said; he was smiling, but there was an icy, warning glint in his eyes.

The two Alphas _ really _needed to wash up, but despite themselves, they were all dozing off.

Distantly, Freddie heard a car pull in. He heard Crystal, Ratty and Roy speaking with Paul.

And then came Crystal’s voice; “WHAT THE _ FUCK _IS WITH THIS MESS!?”

Uh oh. They hadn’t cleaned the kitchen. It still looked like a war zone.

Suddenly wide awake, Freddie looked at his boys; they were all wide-eyed, frozen, looking at each other warily.

Then Brian’s lips twitched. Deacy snorted, and the next thing Freddie knew they were all in stitches.

The bedroom door slammed open, and there was Crystal, bristling with anger.

“Laugh it up,” he said. “But I am _ not _cleaning that!”

  
  
  
  


**August 5th, Ridge Farm, 1975** **  
** ** _“Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there? Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? I feel her, I see her, the sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control...Like fire, hellfire. This fire in my skin, this burning desire, is turning me to sin.” -Hellfire, _ ** **The Hunchback of Notre Dame**

You couldn’t work all the time; that led straight to burn-out. Add on that Roger was in rut, and he definitely didn’t fancy arguing over songs today. He knew he was likely to cross a line; the cupboard would look tame in comparison. It was the hottest day yet, they’d been working pretty much every day since they got here. The only “break” had been when Robert was born, and even then, Freddie, Roger and Brian had gone back to the farm after two days. Other than that, it was non-stop work.

It was no wonder everyone was worn out.

It was Brian’s idea to simply relax for a day. They were making decent time on the album, they could surely afford a day off. It was Deacy who suggested they have a picnic by the lake, where they could at least swim if they fancied, where they knew there were plenty of trees to provide shade.

Roger (albeit reluctantly) opted out. “I think I’ll just try and nap,” he said.

Freddie looked at him worriedly, before he got that stubborn look on his face. “I’ll stay with you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you,” Freddie teased, but he _ did _look concerned. And Roger got it; it wasn’t like him to turn down an outing of any kind. He was normally social as hell, hiding away wasn’t like him.

And honestly, he wouldn’t turn down Freddie’s company. When he was in rut he was _ possessive. _If he didn’t know where Freddie was, he’d definitely work himself into a state.

“You’re great, you know that?” Roger squeezed his hand as the others left.

“I’m fabulous,” Freddie said, poking Roger on the nose. He beamed at him. “Let’s see what videos they have here, hm?”

  
  
  
  


It was a sweet idea in theory. The main house was an old house; as such, rather like his childhood home (before the divorce), it had two living rooms. One for entertaining guests, the “fancier” of the two, and the _ actual _ living room. Most of the videos were in the “guest” living room; it was a cozy room with floral wallpaper and a thick grey carpet. Like his grandparents’ house, it had glass-panelled double doors, and he could have _ sworn _his granny had the exact same painting of a fruit bowl, the same ornate (and kind of ugly) mirror above the fireplace. 

In short, it wasn’t a _ sexy _room. 

That didn’t stop his dick from showing interest when Freddie curled up next to him, tugging Roger’s arm over his shoulders.

He hardly needed an excuse to find Freddie attractive, but add on that he was in rut, add on that Freddie was wearing a thin tank-top and a pair of tiny shorts, and he couldn’t focus on the film at all.

Freddie _ smirked _at him, the bastard.

That did it.

The movie was soon forgotten; he just remembered to mute it, and then one of his hands was up Freddie’s shirt, the other was down his shorts and Freddie crawled onto his lap, laughing breathlessly.

“The others could come back any time,” he said. “Shouldn’t we head upstairs, Blondie?”

“They won’t be back until dinner,” Roger said impatiently.

Freddie smirked at him again; he pulled back, tugging his shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Wonderful.”

  
  
  
  


Paul was woken from his nap abruptly; he’d left the window and door open, anything to help with this insufferable heat. 

What the hell was that noise? Was that…?

_ That’s moaning, _ he thought blearily. It took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to really register what he was hearing. _ Is that Freddie? _Holy shit, that was Freddie. Hadn’t everyone else gone to the lake today?

Evidently not _ everyone. _To his mounting disgust, he could hear Roger too. Roger was in rut, he knew that. If he knew Paul could hear them, he’d snap Paul’s neck.

That didn’t stop him from tip-toeing down the stairs.

The sight that greeted him knocked the breath out of him. The double-doors to the living room were open (though they were glass anyway, so what did that matter in the long run?); they faced the stairs and he stayed where he was, half-way down and hidden in the shadows.

Roger had Freddie on his hands and knees on the floor, pounding into him, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Paul could smell the scent of his rut from here and did his damn best to ignore it, his eyes stuck on Freddie. The Omega was a beautiful mess, red-faced, hair tangled; there were obvious tear tracks on his face, and he was outright _ screaming. _

He managed to block Roger out. All his focus was on Freddie.

Right from the start he’d suspected they were lying about their relationship- Roger didn’t act like a proper Alpha at all. He was hopeless at reigning Freddie in, he let him do whatever he wanted, say whatever he wanted. But then Freddie had shown up _ pregnant, _ and he’d been forced to admit he was wrong. Still, he didn’t understand what Freddie _ saw _ in Roger. Roger couldn’t provide for him, Roger didn’t look after him, not _ really. _He let Freddie run wild.

But didn’t this just confirm another suspicion? For all Freddie’s high-and-mighty attitude, Paul had _ known _he could be a proper Omega. Turns out Freddie understood an Omega’s true role after all: on his back or knees, legs spread, doing an Alpha’s bidding. Because there he was, doing what Omegas were born to do.

He’d known Freddie’s attitude on stage wasn’t an act. 

_ Teasing little whore, _ he thought. He _ knew _ it, he knew Freddie was just leading him on this whole time. He knew that prudish attitude had just been an act, he’d _ known _it. 

He felt frozen. All he could look at was Freddie, desperate and sobbing and _ perfect, _ even better than Paul could have imagined. If Roger was a proper Alpha, Paul surely could have convinced him to share, even for one night (he had before) but Roger had always been an uptight bastard with an attitude problem. But now that he’d seen Freddie for himself, Paul couldn’t just ignore it. It wasn’t _ fair, _ he was the most gorgeous Omega that Paul had ever seen; he could drive entire _ crowds _ wild. Why did _ Roger, _who simply didn’t deserve him, get to have him? 

He stayed until Freddie finished, shrieking Roger’s name. Then he backed away, fleeing back to his room.

He could barely see straight; the image of Freddie on the floor was stuck on repeat in his head, he was so turned on it _ hurt. _ What right, what goddamn _ right _did someone like Roger have to Freddie? Why did Freddie settle for him?

_ I always knew he was a slut, _ Paul thought. He ran a hand through his hair, unzipping his jeans. That did it. That was _ it. _ Freddie was a fucking _ tease, _he always had been. He couldn’t just lead Paul on for two years straight and expect no consequences. He needed to be put in his place.

He stayed in his room for the rest of the day, stuck wondering just what to do next.

  
  
  
  


Freddie couldn’t quite catch his breath. He lay flat on his back, struggling to get his bearings.

“Wow,” he said. Roger grinned smugly, nosing at the mark on his neck. Freddie ran a hand through Roger’s hair, but he sighed and said, “We need to clean up.”

“Let’s not.”

“I’m not traumatising our friends, Rog,” Freddie said, giggling tiredly. It was a struggle to push Roger off; he clung like a monkey, laughing at him. “Come on, get off.”

“I did,” Roger said. He rolled off Freddie, lying down next to him. “Twice.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Freddie rolled his eyes, pushing himself up. “Come on, there’s enough room in the bath for both of us.”

That got Roger on his feet; he grabbed their clothes and gestured dramatically to the doors.

“Lead the way, Freds.”

“Oh _ may _ I, Your Majesty?” Despite the sarcasm, Freddie grinned, making sure to add an extra sway to his hips as he walked ahead. Roger wolf-whistled, which just set Freddie off laughing again.

As he ran the bath, he sat on the edge, humming under his breath. Then he frowned; he could hear footsteps. 

Then he realised where those footsteps were coming from- _ Paul’s room. _ For a moment he was mortified, but then he pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter. He couldn’t help it, it was just so _ typical. _Just when they think they have some privacy...

“Darling, I think Paul is still here,” he gasped.

“Oh shit,” Roger said. He looked at the door. He outright _ cackled, _ throwing his head back. “_Shit, _I bet he’s enough of a perv to listen in.”

“You don’t think he heard us, do you?” Freddie asked.

“I fucking hope not,” Roger said. Grinning, he wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist. “I’d have to kill him.”

“Oh _ please, _you’ve been waiting for an excuse to do that, darling.”

Roger’s grin widened, he leaned down to kiss Freddie, one hand tangling in his hair. “Guilty,” he said. “Now turn that water off before we flood the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Paul, Roger's going to kill you...
> 
> (For anyone that requested more Theo content, I've finally added some more Theo to the series; our angst king has his own one-shot)


	24. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Ridge Farm, things finally reach breaking point when Paul decides to take what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for attempted rape and (successful) battering. (Roger...Kinda loses it.) That section begins at the lyrics for Halsey's "Control" and continues to the end of the chapter.

**August 10th, Ridge Farm, 1975** **   
** ** _“‘Cause soon you're gonna want me, and you know it's true, yes you do. Why don't you see him the way he really is? ‘Cause soon you'll wanna leave him, and I know it's true, yes I do. I'm feeling all the heat, they're gonna hear my call, now I can't wait to see you lose it all. You've placed your bets, and he is gonna make you fall, I can't believe you're so delusional.” -Delusional, _ ** **Simon Curtis**

It was a struggle to act normally over the next few days. It was a struggle to not let his seething jealousy show. Paul was forced to sit and watch as Freddie cuddled up to Roger, or draped himself over him; whenever he caught them kissing he left the room, before he could lose his temper.

It was ridiculous, really, how Freddie acted with everyone. He’d sit on Brian’s lap, or let John lift him up, he let Roger paw him about without caring who saw, but heaven forbid Paul so much as  _ glanced  _ at him. Whenever their eyes met, Freddie’s smile would falter, and he’d look away, sometimes glancing back, as if to check if Paul was still watching.

Playing shy, was he now? How quaint. 

_ Slut,  _ he thought, as Freddie curled up next to Roger. They were in the recording booth, working through Brian’s song  _ ‘39.  _ It wasn’t exactly a rock song, but then again a lot of these songs weren’t.  _ A Night At The Opera  _ promised to be fucking  _ weird,  _ if you asked him. Brian said this song was about space travel, and...worm holes, or something?

“Time dilation,” Brian said, when John asked. 

Paul didn’t see what was supposed to be rock ‘n roll about this at all.  _ ‘39, Sweet Lady, You’re My Best Friend, Seaside Rendezvous... _ They weren’t rock ‘n roll, they were all  _ soft.  _

But then there was  _ Death On Two Legs,  _ which was a promising title. They were to start on that as soon as they finished with Brian’s weird space song. Whatever it was about, reading the lyrics had John’s eyes nearly popping out of his head. 

“Shit.” Crystal let out a low whistle, reading over John's shoulder. “You didn’t hold back, eh, Fred?”

“Not at all,” Freddie said with a proud little smile. Paul tried not to stare; the last thing he wanted was Roger getting in his face again. But Freddie looked fantastic today, dressed in red. He was twisting that damn pendant between his fingers though, a ridiculous birthday gift from Roger. It looked like a cheap piece of shit; an Omega like Freddie should have been wearing diamonds, rubies, sapphires... _ Real  _ jewels, proper jewellery, something he could show off and be proud of, not some novelty little thing. A cat yin-and-yang symbol,  _ honestly!  _ That had to be cheap, some sort of rip-off. 

And didn’t that just show how little Roger valued him? A real Alpha wanted to show their Omega off proudly, a real Alpha ought to buy their Omega  _ proper  _ gifts, something to show their beauty off.

It was pathetic, Paul thought. Freddie could do so much  _ better.  _

_ You could have me,  _ he wanted to say.  _ You can stop the teasing now, you have me. I see you, you can drop the act. _

But when Freddie caught his gaze again, his smile stiffened; he turned away to talk to Ratty. As per usual, the other Alpha tripped over himself to do what Freddie wanted.  _ Pathetic.  _

Freddie was a foul little tease. He smiled and laughed with everyone else, he was physical with everyone else...Except for Paul.

But Paul had the measure of him, he always had. He was just like every other Omega; he may act high-and-mighty, but he was a slut like the rest of them.

Someone needed to put the little bastard back in his place.

It seemed impossible to get near Freddie, he was always surrounded by his bandmates. Paul couldn’t stand it. He had to have Freddie, this was driving him insane. The jealousy might actually drive him mad if this kept up any longer. He had to have him.

Freddie had to be alone sometimes. It was just a matter of finding out when.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**August 12th…** **   
** ** _“I'm bigger than my body, I'm colder than this home. I'm meaner than my demons, I'm bigger than these bones, and all the kids cried out, ‘Please stop, you're scaring me!’ I can't help this awful energy. Goddamn right, you should be scared of me. Who is in control?” -Control, _ ** **Halsey**

Truth be told, Freddie quite liked this farm. Sure, they were all feeling a bit stir-crazy now and then, but it was nice to genuinely have no distractions. If they got frustrated they couldn’t just leave into the nearest town for hours on end and forget what they were doing in the first place. They could take some time to cool down, but they were left with little choice other than getting back to work. 

There was absolutely no night life, and the local pub was quite shit, but at least there  _ was  _ a pub- and honestly, the liquor cabinet in the main house was well-stocked. The lake was gorgeous, and (as Ratty pointed out) at least they had a TV at all.

He was surprised by just how much he was getting done. He thought he’d struggle a lot more.

The one song that was driving him batty was  _ Bohemian Rhapsody.  _ He was having trouble tying it all together, and he refused to show this one to the boys until he was completely happy with it.

On the other hand, he had a much sadder song to show them, if he could only finish this next verse.

During an afternoon out, Freddie had asked Mary if there was any particular kind of song she’d want to see on their album. She’d requested “something sweet and sad,” and he intended to deliver. Hence,  _ Love Of My Life.  _ He knew it could easily be read as a break-up song, but honestly...He’d written it with Heydar in mind. He wondered if anyone would guess, or if they’d assume it was about Roger, or someone else entirely. Knowing the press they’d  _ certainly  _ take this as proof that he and Roger were breaking up.

He was pretty sure Roger and the boys would know what it was about. That was all that mattered really.

He hoped Mary would like it.

The others had all gone to bed; he’d waved away Roger’s concerns and went straight to the piano. It was, admittedly, a little chilly downstairs, especially since Freddie was just wearing his own pyjama bottoms, and one of Roger’s tank tops. It kept slipping off his shoulder, but it was big and soft, and smelled like Roger, so it was well worth it.

He was nearly finished when Paul came in. Freddie could smell the whiskey on him, even half-way across the room. Paul’s gaze was bleary, but other than that he didn’t seem too drunk. He did look quite annoyed though.

“Did I wake you?” Freddie asked, certain there was about to be an argument. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Paul said, waving a dismissive hand. “I couldn’t sleep.” He sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. “Mind if I join you?”

_ Bit late to ask,  _ Freddie thought. He pursed his lips, eyeing Paul warily. Well...He only had to practice the last verse, and he’d be finished. If it had been a few months ago, he’d have fled as soon as Paul entered the room, but Paul hadn’t tried to touch him or flirted with him since Japan. He barely even looked at him anymore. Maybe Brian was right, and he’d lost interest? God, he  _ hoped  _ so, what a relief that would be.

“I...I suppose not…”  _ Just finish the verse and go to bed.  _

_ “Oh, hurry back, hurry back, don't take it away from me, because you don't know what it means to me. Love of my life…”  _

“That’s beautiful,” Paul interrupted. “What’s it called?”

“ _ Love Of My Life, _ ” Freddie said with a shrug. He smiled. “I wrote it for Mary.” Surely she’d be pleased with it.

“For Mary?” Paul’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re with Roger.”

“Well, she asked if I could write something sad,” Freddie said. “So...Why not, right?”

“If you say so,” Paul scoffed. Freddie scowled at him, but he came over regardless; Freddie shrunk back on instinct, but Paul only reached out for the ashtray, putting his cigarette out.

Paul was quiet. Freddie glanced up, and the look in Paul’s eyes suddenly frightened him. That wasn’t just lust, that was- God, he wasn’t quite sure  _ what  _ that was, but it was possessive, hungry,  _ angry. _

When the strap of the tank-top slipped again, Paul seemed incapable of looking away.

Freddie stood up, backing away.

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “Goodnight,” he added, turning away-

And he was quickly pulled back when Paul’s hand clamped down on his wrist. Before Freddie could even register what was happening, Paul was kissing him, holding him tightly. One hand was in Freddie’s hair, pulling so hard it hurt, his other arm was wrapped around him, while his hand pressed down on Freddie’s ass, pulling him in as close as he could.

He hadn’t known a  _ kiss  _ could hurt, but it did, it felt like his lips were being bruised.

It only lasted a couple of seconds before the shock wore off, but once it did Freddie was  _ pissed.  _ He managed to wriggle an arm free.

He slapped Paul as hard as he could.

The Alpha staggered back, clutching his cheek in shock, gawping at Freddie. He seemed genuinely shocked by Freddie’s response. Had he seriously expected Freddie to let Paul kiss him? Reciprocate?

Not a hope in hell.

_ Indignant  _ was too light a word. He was  _ pissed.  _ Freddie stepped back, glaring Paul down.

“Touch me again,” he snarled. “And I’ll break your jaw.”

Paul was still staring at him. He barely even blinked.

Then, as Freddie took another step back, he pounced.

It happened faster than Freddie could blink: one second, they were locked in a stare-down, the next second Paul had him pinned to the ground, kissing him again almost  _ furiously,  _ pinning his wrists to the ground, using his size to his advantage to hold Freddie down. Freddie tried to wriggle away, tried to find a way to push Paul off him with no luck. He couldn’t even move his hands, what good was boxing if he couldn’t move his hands?

He’d been disgusted before. Now he was terrified.

_ Oh God he’d going to- please don’t let him- I can’t do this, I  _ can’t,  _ I- _

Finally, Paul pulled back, his lips trailing down Freddie’s neck instead. Freddie braced himself to scream, but Paul’s next words knocked the breath out of him.

“You want a baby, don’t you?” he murmured, grinding down against Freddie. “I could give you one.”

He wanted to vomit. His brain just couldn’t seem to process what he’d just heard. Because surely Paul didn’t just say that? He didn’t. He couldn’t have. Fucking hell, he was serious. 

And Freddie just  _ froze,  _ too sickened for words.

Paul seemed to take his silence for consent. A smug smirk crossed his face, and all Freddie could suddenly feel was  _ rage.  _ How  _ dare  _ he bring Heydar into this?  _ How dare he use Freddie’s baby against him? _

_ I’ll kill you,  _ he thought, and for a moment he really felt like he might.

Instead, he drew the deepest breath he could and  _ screamed. _

_ “ROGER! ROGGIE!” _

Instantly, Paul’s hand pressed down on his mouth.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “You don’t get to lead me on with no consequences, you damn  _ whore. _ ”

His hand was free.

Freddie punched Paul as hard as he could; the force (and likely the shock) of it nearly knocked Paul off him, and Freddie managed to kick him off entirely, scrambling away, but Paul grabbed him by the leg, pulling him back down. One hand gripped Freddie’s hair and he bashed Freddie’s head against the hardwood floor as hard as he could.

Pain exploded in his head, there were dark spots in his vision, and his next attempt at a scream only came out as a weak groan. The room was spinning and Paul’s hand tightened on Freddie’s neck as he straddled him again.

Thank God,  _ thank God  _ that was when his boys burst in.

They took it all in within seconds: Freddie, groaning in pain on the ground, Paul pinning him and choking him…

And with a roar of rage, Roger pounced.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Oh, feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play, yeah. Yeah, love, I hope you know how much my heart depends, yeah. But I guess that's love, I can't pretend. I guess that's love, I can't pretend, oh, oh. But I guess that's love, I can't pretend.” -Can’t Pretend, _ ** **Tom Odell**

Roger knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t lie and say he blacked out. He pounced, and he remembered every goddamn second of it. He literally saw red for a moment. All he could see was Freddie, in pain and frightened on the ground, with Prenter holding him down. 

Instinct drove him. Every one of his senses felt heightened. If he had to put a word to it, he’d say he was hunting.

And Prenter was the prey.

It was easy enough, really, to tackle Prenter off Freddie. The bastard finally had the sense to look afraid, finally realising that Roger hadn’t been joking all this time; he was fully capable of putting Prenter six feet under.

If he was totally honest, completely 100% honest, he wanted to.

One punch and Prenter’s nose was broken; another punch and his lip was burst, another and another, until his own hands were throbbing, but he couldn’t stop, he  _ couldn’t,  _ he  _ wouldn’t. _

He’d always known Prenter was a snake. He should have known he’d try his luck sooner or later.

_ “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” _

“Roger!” Brian was trying to pull him off, but Roger managed to elbow him away with another furious shout. “Rog, don’t!”

_ He hurt Freddie, he hurt Freddie, he hurt Freddie. _

He tried to  _ rape  _ Freddie, because Roger was under no illusions about what Prenter was after.

Freddie had screamed for him, for  _ him,  _ and oh God he’d never heard Freddie scream like that before, he’d never heard him sound  _ that  _ terrified.

His hands wrapped around Prenter’s throat and-

_ “ROGGIE, STOP!” _

Freddie’s scream made him stop. 

Brian wasted no time in pulling Roger off Prenter; he gaped at Roger like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, but his face twisted with rage when he looked at Prenter, sputtering and bleeding on the ground.

Crystal, Roy and Ratty were all huddled in the doorway, all equally shocked.

“Fucking hell, Rog, what did you do??” Crystal asked, but Roger looked at Freddie, wrapped in Deacy’s arms. He was shivering, gripping his head. The cat pendant lay between them on the ground; the clasp was broken. It must have snapped when Roger tackled Prenter.

“Stop it,” Freddie repeated hoarsely. He glanced at Prenter and shuddered. Deacy’s grip tightened, and he turned him away.

Prenter did look a sight; he weakly pushed himself backwards, looking like a cornered, petrified animal. His face was bruised and swollen, splattered heavily with his own blood. He was missing a tooth.

If it was anyone else, Roger would have been horrified at himself. But not now. Not for this. 

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Ratty said.

“And the police,” Brian said; he shot Prenter another look, wary and furious. “Paul attacked Freddie.” He still had a tight grip on Roger. Roger still couldn’t look away from Freddie.

“Fred?” He reached out and finally flinched when he caught sight of the blood on his hands. No wonder Freddie looked so scared, he thought. What did Roger look like right now?

_ Did I just ruin this? _

Freddie glanced down at the pendant and his eyes watered; he leaned against Deacy and mumbled, “It broke.”

“We’ll fix it,” Roger said, somewhat desperately. And then, truly desperate, he said, “Brimi, let me go.”

Brian did. Roger went to Freddie, wiping his hands on his jeans, though it didn’t do a whole lot of good. This time, when he reached out, Freddie went to him. He was shaking horribly, and Roger helped him to his feet.

“We’re getting you out of here,” he said. “You need to be checked over too.”

“I’m fine,” Freddie mumbled, but he kept squinting and pressing his hand to his forehead. There were angry red marks on his neck, and on his wrists.

“Don’t be stupid,” Deacy said weakly. He pushed himself to his feet, looking perfectly horrified. Part of Roger wondered if Deacy was horrified with Prenter or with him. Maybe both.

The rest of him said to deal with it later. 

For now, he let Crystal and Roy help Prenter. 

Before he led Freddie from the room, he ducked down to grab the cat pendant from the floor and tucked it into his pocket. He gave Freddie a weak attempt at a smile.

“We can fix it, right?” Freddie asked. Roger didn’t like how bleary his eyes were getting, how much he kept shivering.

“‘Course we can,” Roger reassured him.

Before they could reach the door, Prenter’s slurred voice reached them; “It’s…’is own...fault.”

Against his better judgement, Roger stopped. They all did. Brian stood in front of them all, acting like a shield; despite the beating, Prenter still glared at Freddie.

“Actin’...l-like a whore...on stage, ‘e deserved it.” Despite the blood, despite the wounds, he looked  _ furious.  _ He spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Omegas,” he managed to snarl. “Are- are meant to  _ s-shut up  _ ‘nd spread their legs...when they’re told to…”

Freddie flinched, looking utterly stricken. Before Roger could lose it again, Brian pushed them out the door. His grip was surprisingly strong as he grappled with Roger, keeping him back, pushing him down the corridor, towards the front door.

All the same, Roger twisted around in his grasp to scream,  _ “Go to hell, Prenter! Just fucking DIE already, you bastard!” _

“Don’t listen to him, Freddie,” Deacy said quickly. “Don’t. He’s full of crap, you  _ know  _ that. Freddie?”

But Freddie stared straight ahead, his eyes gone dim, like he wasn’t really seeing anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie dealt with Jim beating the daylights out of Paul, and he dealt with Roger doing so (and nearly killing him in the Darkness 'verse). They'll be fine. Since they're dating this time though, and Roger's beating was much more violent, they'll have to talk about it a lot more than in the original canon.
> 
> As for Roger, there is a (very out-dated) law stating an Alpha can beat another Alpha for groping/assaulting/otherwise harming their Omega; it's seen as a defense of "property." (Certainly, there's been Alphas who abuse that law and tell outright lies as an excuse to batter an enemy)


	25. Shallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Ridge Farm; Freddie and Roger have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say it all the time, but these boys need a break from me 😂

** _“In all the good times I find myself longing for change, and in the bad times I fear myself. I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in, I'll never meet the ground. Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us, we're far from the shallow now.” -Shallow, _ ** **Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper**

Roger hated hospitals; he hated the harsh lights, he hated the smell, the sounds, he even hated the ugly plastic chairs. He’d seen his dad send his mum to the hospital more than once. He’d been stuck in a waiting room for _ hours _when he was twelve; he’d fallen out of a tree and broken his leg.

And then he’d been stuck in a state of terror and grief when they lost the baby.

And now this, the perpetual fear that Freddie had a terrible concussion and would fall flat on his face any moment now. The terror that maybe, just maybe, Prenter had choked him harder than he’d realised, and there was horrible damage done to his neck, his vocal chords.

But the doctor who checked Freddie over said it was only a minor concussion, some bruising; the main concern was that Freddie seemed to be in shock. They’d wrapped a blanket around him on the way here, but he was still shaking.

Roger held him close, eyeing every stranger suspiciously. Somewhere in this very hospital, doctors were attending to Prenter. Roger hated knowing he was near. A paranoid part of him was certain that Prenter would come in any second now, to finish what he’d started.

Talking to the police wasn’t fun. He listened, his heart breaking, as Freddie told the two officers what had happened. One looked even younger than Deacy, with some obvious acne scars on his nose; he’d introduced himself as Dean Oswald, and it felt weird as hell to address someone so young as _ officer. _ The other looked to be around Bomi’s age, with curly grey hair, named Richard Green; he looked totally unimpressed by them, eyeing their long hair and Freddie’s painted nails with disdain. Both of them were Alphas, and Green bluntly asked if Freddie had said something to Prenter, if he’d flirted with him.

“No!” Freddie said, horrified. “I didn’t!”

“Of course he didn’t,” Roger snapped.

“Forgive me, sir, but we need to be sure,” the elder officer said. “If this was at all consensual, then your defence falls apart. You won’t _ have _a defence.”

“I was just _ writing, _ ” Freddie protested. “I pushed him off, I slapped him, I said _ no. _”

Green frowned at him, but Dean nodded, writing down everything Freddie said.

“What exactly did you say to him, Freddie?”

“I said if he touched me again I’d break his jaw.”

Green scoffed, but there was a flicker of approval on Dean’s face. Roger couldn’t help but feel proud; typical Freddie. Always ready to stand up for himself.

“And then?”

“He pushed me,” Freddie said. “Knocked me onto the ground.” He shuddered. “He…” His hands went to his stomach, and that dead look was back in his eyes, scaring Roger silly. “He said he could give me a baby.”

“And what did you say?” Green asked.

Freddie looked at the officer, his gaze hardening. “I screamed for Roger,” he said coldly. “Then I punched him. I tried to run but he slammed my head into the ground.”

“Does any of _ this _look consensual to you?” Roger snapped. There were bruises on Freddie’s wrist, God knew there was a huge bruise hidden under his hair, and there were still harsh marks on his neck.

“You have to be careful in cases like these, Mr Taylor,” Green said, apparently unmoved by Roger’s anger. “Mr Prenter’s defence is that your Omega led him on. But it looks like you have ample evidence in your defence; any lawyer will agree you were defending your prop-”

“Is everything okay in here?” Miami strode in, staring the cops down. 

“Just some routine questioning, Mr…?”

“Jim Beach,” Miami said cooly. “I’m their lawyer.”

“Ah.” Green finally looked a little uncomfortable. “Well then, you know Mr Taylor’s defence?”

“That Paul attacked Freddie? Yes. I was one of the first to arrive on the farm, they called me right away.” Miami’s face could have been carved from stone. “Paul’s been harassing Freddie for two years now, it’s a miracle he didn’t cross the line before now.”

“He has a history of harassment?” Dean asked. “That changes things.” He continued to frantically scribble.

“He does,” Roger said; the thought of Prenter had him snarling again, holding Freddie impossibly close. “He constantly accused us of lying about our relationship, he’s always flirting with Freddie or being inappropriate, he said Freddie’s _ stage act _was an invitation for fuck’s sake.”

Freddie flinched at that; Green eyed Freddie up and down in a way that reminded Roger uncomfortably of Foster. Dean, at least, looked sympathetic.

“Paul’s only defence is that Freddie is an Omega,” Miami said with a hint of impatience. Dean nodded, looking over their statements. 

“There’s plenty of cases of Alphas lying about these things as an excuse to batter an enemy,” Dean said cautiously. “But it sounds like you were indeed acting in defence of your Omega.”

“I was,” Roger snapped.

Dean nodded. Green said, “You’ll need to come down to the station tomorrow; we’ll call you.”

“Roger isn’t in trouble, is he?” Freddie asked, looking between both officers with wide eyes. “He just- he was just trying to _ help, _I-”

“It’s okay,” Dean said soothingly, as they prepared to leave. “You’ll both just have to give your statements again, and we’ll see if your Alpha is allowed to press charges, since he already protected you.”

“Can’t _ I _press charges?” Freddie asked.

“You weren’t hurt,” Green said, and they left.

“...What?” Freddie’s voice was tiny. “I...I wasn’t _ hurt? _” His face twisted, he looked like he was going to cry. “They mean I wasn’t raped.”

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” Miami said quietly.

“The law’s full of shit,” Roger hissed, his grip on Freddie tightening. “Of course he was fucking hurt, look at him!”

“I want to go home,” Freddie said. “Now.”

“I’ll find the doctor for you,” Miami said. He squeezed Freddie’s shoulder. “And then I’ll go over your statements with you, boys.”

He went in search of the doctor, and they were left in silence. Surely they could go home now? It wasn’t as if Freddie was in any grave danger; Roger could monitor him, it was a mild concussion, he knew how to deal with that.

Thankfully, they were allowed to leave, with Miami in tow. Brian and Deacy were still waiting for them.

“Everything okay?” Brian asked, rushing over. Deacy immediately hugged Freddie, squeezing so hard it looked painful, but Freddie clung to him just as tightly.

“Concussion,” Roger said. Sure enough, Freddie kept squinting due to the light and wincing at loud noises. He didn’t look too dizzy though, and he’d only thrown up once.

“And Prenter?”

“He doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Roger scoffed, because he knew the law, thank you very much. Those stupid, out-dated laws that referred to Freddie as Roger’s _ property _ just might be their saving grace this time. The cops could blather on about people _ lying _all they wanted, but almost every Alpha was taken at their word in cases like this. There’d have to be hard evidence that Roger attacked from nowhere. Otherwise, he was fine.

It kind of turned his stomach. 

Because Freddie wasn’t _ property, _ that law was so old, hundreds of years old, but still in active practice. And people _ did _use that law as an excuse to be violent, he knew that. They’d coerce their Omegas into lying for them, and it could all become one big tangled mess, a court case that dragged on.

He doubted it would in this case; it was one of the only times he was glad for this law. 

Prenter couldn’t press charges, but since Roger had, in theory, gotten “justice” he likely couldn’t press charges either. And since, in the eyes of the law, Freddie wasn’t hurt, there was little chance he could too.

“I hate the law,” he announced abruptly as they reached the car-park. “Like, I _ seriously _hate it.”

“It’ll keep you out of jail,” Deacy said quietly. 

“But it says Fred’s my property,” Roger said. “It says Freddie can’t press charges.”

“Boys,” Brian said warningly, with a pointed look at Freddie. He was still tucked under Roger’s arm, tiny and shivering, looking completely worn out.

“I want to go _ home, _” he repeated, more firmly. 

“Yeah,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Let’s get out of here.”

  
  
  
  


** _“I’ve been on the brink, so tell me what you want to hear, something that’ll light those ears. I’m sick of all the insincere, so I'm gonna give all my secrets away. This time, don't need another perfect lie. Don't care if critics never jump in line, I'm gonna give all my secrets away.” -Secrets, _ ** **One Republic**

It almost felt _ strange _being home. Roger carted most of their things inside, ignoring Freddie’s protests that he could help; he left the rest in the van. He’d get them tomorrow.

Sleep seemed impossible. Roger was on high alert, double-checking all the doors and windows, twitching at every shadow. Freddie sat cross-legged on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

When Roger joined him, he immediately took his hand, though he still looked upwards. Eventually, he sighed.

“You can’t do that again,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Hit someone like that.” Freddie looked at him, lips pressed together, eyes dim. “You- you could have gotten in so much trouble, Rog darling, and-”

“But I didn’t,” Roger said. “I _ couldn’t. _”

“You don’t _ know _ that!” Freddie twisted around to face him properly and grabbed both his hands. “What if they didn’t believe us? Green clearly didn’t. You could have ended up in _ jail, _and-”

_ “Fred.” _ Roger squeezed his hands, holding his gaze. “I’m not going to jail.” _ No one is, _ he thought bitterly. “It’s okay. We’re okay. More importantly, _ you’re _okay.”

“We’re okay now,” Freddie said. “This time. What if that happens again?”

“I won’t let it.”

“You can’t promise that.” Freddie’s voice was barely a whisper, and Roger’s heart twisted.

“Yes I can,” he said stubbornly, but he couldn’t, could he? Because he hadn’t prevented it from happening this time. He’d left Freddie alone. He turned his back for one minute, and look what happened. And Freddie was right, Green had clearly thought this was Freddie’s fault.

A lot of people, Roger knew, would be happy to say this was Freddie’s fault, but it _ wasn’t. _ How could it possibly be his fault that some bastard was obsessed with him? How was the world’s perception of Omegas _ Freddie’s _fault? 

“I can do my damn best,” Roger said. His throat felt tight, all he could see was Freddie on the floor, Prenter looming over him. “I can try.”

“You _ are _ the best,” Freddie said softly, with a tiny barely-there smile, and that was enough to wreck Roger’s composure. He practically _ pounced _on Freddie, pulling him into his arms, holding on tight.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled by Freddie’s hair. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

“I shouldn’t have stayed up,” Freddie said.

“Don’t you _ dare _blame yourself.” Roger’s voice was fierce, he kissed the top of Freddie’s head, his hand tangling in his thick black hair. “This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not your either.”

_ Yes it is. I promised. I promised to protect you, and I didn’t. I left you alone. _

Instead, he said, “It’s Prenter’s fault.”

He deserved more than a beating. He deserved more than losing his job (because no way in hell would _ Queen _ work with him now), he deserved to lose _ everything, _he should have been burning in hell.

He hurt Freddie. He’d tried to rape Freddie, he was the reason that Freddie was trembling in his arms, this was _ his fault. _

And he had the nerve to talk about Heydar.

Roger had never hated anyone so much.

“Do you have my necklace?” Freddie asked.

“Yeah, right here.” He was confused by the change in topic, but he took it out of his pocket and handed it over. Freddie examined the broken clasp, biting his lip, holding the necklace up to the light and immediately flinching, having to look away. He pressed a hand to his head, but he was still fretting over the clasp.

“We can fix it,” Roger said. “Easily. We’ll take it to the jewellers tomorrow, yeah?”

“I hate that he broke it,” Freddie said. He sighed, setting the necklace on his bedside table. “I just...It’s _ mine, _you bought it for me.”

“It must have been when I tackled him,” Roger said apologetically. “He still had a grip on your neck.”

Freddie’s hands went to his own neck, tracing over the scratches. Roger wished he knew what Freddie was thinking, because he looked frighteningly blank again. His eyes flickered to his wardrobe, and he flopped onto his back, closing his eyes.

“Can we just go to bed, Rog?” he asked. “I don’t…” He trailed off, and didn’t say anything else. Roger waited, but Freddie stayed quiet.

So Roger lay next to him, pulling Freddie against his chest again. Freddie clung to him, which made it difficult for him to reach out and turn the light off, but he managed.

He wasn’t exactly sure when he nodded off, but it took hours; the sun was beginning to come out when his eyes closed. For most of the night he stayed awake, holding onto Freddie, listening to his breathing, on alert for any sudden noises, tensing at any footsteps outside. 

_ I’ll protect you, _he thought for the millionth time. The growing light in the room let him get a clear look at Freddie, at his dark hair falling into his face, at one of his hands still clutching Roger’s shirt, at his chest rising and falling with every breath.

_ I’ll protect you. I promise. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't exactly the END of their talk; as seen in the other timelines, Freddie hella blames himself for all this, so they'll have to talk about that too. But we'll also be heading towards them leaving EMI...That window is just waiting to be broken 😏 And then America and a certain mister Fanelli!
> 
> This universe's laws regarding Omegas are bullshit. They're bad enough in the 80s, but they're WORSE in the 70s.


	26. Bohemian Rhapsody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen's finally had enough; it's time to leave EMI behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stuck in bed sick at the moment, so I'd better try and get some writing done, huh? 😅

**August 13th, EMI Studios, London, 1975** **   
** ** _“Every day I fight a war against the mirror, I can't take the person starin' back at me; I'm a hazard to myself. Don't let me get me. I'm my own worst enemy. It's bad when you annoy yourself, so irritating. Don't wanna be my friend no more, I wanna be somebody else.” -Don’t Let Me Get Me, _ ** **Pink**

Brian wasn’t surprised by Foster’s utter lack of sympathy, but it still made him angry. Reid had called Foster the night Prenter attacked Freddie, and Foster called them all early the next morning, demanding they come down to his office  _ now. _

“No breaks,” he said coldly. “I agree that Prenter...acted rashly.” He threw Roger a wary glance, and when Roger didn’t yell or make threats, he continued; “He’s been fired, no one got hurt.” He jerked his head at Freddie. “He’s fine. You’re behind schedule as it is, so get back to work.”

_ No one got hurt?  _ Brian could have screamed in sheer frustration. Was Foster  _ serious?  _ Of course Freddie had been hurt!

Roger drew himself up, snarling, but Freddie lay a gentle hand on his knee, staring Foster down.

“Fine,” their frontman said flatly. “That’s fine. We can do that.”

“I wasn’t asking your permission, Mercury,” Foster scoffed. He waved a dismissive hand. “Get going then.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay, Freddie?” Brian asked as they made their way to the lift.

“I’m fine,” Freddie said. He walked a little ahead of the rest of them, his fists clenched.

Reid sighed. “Freddie-”

_ “I’m fine.” _

There was no arguing with that stubborn tone. Not right now at least. They’d have to talk to him later, maybe when Reid wasn’t around. They could talk when they got to the studio, or perhaps at one of their flats. Somewhere a little more private.

He leaned down to whisper in Roger’s ear; “How’d he sleep last night?”

“Like a log,” Roger whispered back. “But he nearly punched me when I woke him up. He was pretty freaked.”

“We have to talk to him, Roggie.”

“Trust me, Bri, I know.” Roger shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing back to Reid and Deacy. “But he won’t say how he really feels with Reid there, especially not  _ here. _ ”

Well, Brian knew that. Even he wouldn’t open up about his emotions, not at EMI. You never knew who was listening in. You never knew what Sheffield or Foster would see as a blackmail opportunity.

But he took in how tense Freddie was, how he looked suspiciously at every strange Alpha they passed, zipping his coat up, sticking close to Roger’s side.

Yeah, they  _ definitely  _ had to talk.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**August 20th, 1975** ** _   
_ ** ** _“If I smile with my teeth, bet you believe me. If I smile with my teeth, I think I believe me. Oh please, don't ask me how I've been, don't make me play pretend. Oh no, oh, what's the use? Oh please, I bet everybody here is fake happy too.” -Fake Happy, _ ** **Paramore**

The thing was, Freddie was stubborn. He was a brilliant actor when he wanted to be. He smiled and laughed like usual, but they were pack. They knew him. It would easy, comforting, to believe Freddie’s airy “I’m fine, darlings!” It would be so much simpler if they could believe he was totally okay.

But they knew him.

They saw how he covered up more than usual; when they went out he didn’t flirt with the waiters anymore. And what’s more, Roger  _ lived  _ with him: he saw that Freddie wasn’t sleeping properly. He threw himself into song writing, intense in an almost  _ panicked  _ way. All he’d talk about was the album, it seemed to be his sole focus. Bring up Ridge Farm and he’d quickly change the subject, or pretend he hadn’t heard you. He stayed up late and woke up early, and Roger always found him writing something. He usually crumpled his writings into a little ball and threw them across the room in frustration, and then he’d quickly start over.

“Freddie?” It was nearly one in the morning, and sure enough, Freddie was still awake, scribbling away on the sofa.  _ “I’ll be there in a few minutes, darling,”  _ he’d told Roger-  _ four hours ago.  _ “Fred, come on, you need to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Freddie said, still writing, but he sure  _ looked  _ tired, with dark circles under his eyes. Roger was uncomfortably reminded of how he’d looked right after they lost Heydar. But not quite. Freddie’s eyes were missing that level of despair; he looked exhausted, worn out, but not like he was breaking. He was pushing himself to exhaustion, not curled up in bed with the curtains drawn. It wasn’t the same thing, but it was similar enough to scare Roger.

He sat on the sofa next to him. Freddie’s hand trembled slightly as he wrote, he kept biting his lip, his eyes drooped tiredly, but he stubbornly kept going.

Roger snatched his notebook away before Freddie could even blink. Sure enough, Freddie protested, practically crawling into Roger’s lap to try and get his notebook back, but Roger held him off with ease. Freddie’s reactions were slower than usual, much more sluggish. It freaked Roger out.

“You can pull that  _ I’m fine  _ crap all you want,” Roger said briskly. “But I’m your  _ boyfriend,  _ we  _ live  _ together; you’re not acting like yourself lately.”

“Good,” Freddie snapped. He soon gave up the fight for his notebook, burying his face in Roger’s shoulder instead.

“How the hell is that  _ good? _ ”

Freddie mumbled something he didn’t quite catch; he had to nudge him three times before Freddie repeated himself. “I don’t want that to happen again,” he said. “At the farm.”

“It won’t,” Roger said. He set the notebook aside and hugged Freddie close.

“It could,” Freddie insisted. “And- you heard what he said. About how I act on stage. I just...Maybe I should change that?” He glanced up at Roger, nervously twisting a strand of his own hair. “If I tone down the attitude and stop flirting, maybe that won’t happen again.”

“Oh,  _ Fred.  _ Don’t listen to him, he’s full of shit!” Roger kissed his forehead, brushing his hair off his face. “He’s an entitled, obsessive  _ pervert,  _ that’s not  _ your  _ fault.  _ None  _ of this is your fault, it’s  _ Prenter’s. _ ”

Freddie flinched at the sound of that name, but he didn’t look wholly convinced.

“You’re brilliant,” Roger said, full of conviction. “Utterly fucking amazing. No one can perform like you, you shouldn’t try and change  _ anything  _ about how you act on stage, let alone because of  _ him.  _ No one can do what you do. You’re Freddie fucking Mercury, remember?”

Freddie shrugged, pressing in closer, but there was a cautious little smile on his face.

“I’ll recruit Brian and Deacs into complimenting you until you believe me,” Roger said with a grin. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, please do, darling,” Freddie laughed. He bit his lip again, contemplative, nervous. “I just...I just can’t help but feel like it was my fault. Like I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Roger said. “It’s  _ him,  _ it’s all on him and the sick fucks who think like him.”

Freddie stared at him. Slowly, something lightened in his eyes and he grabbed his notebook, flicking through until he found the right page; he thrust the book into Roger’s face, smiling.

“I’ve been working on this one for months, darling,” he said. 

On top of the page (which was covered in scribbled out lyrics, corrected lyrics, and doodles) was the title, written in Freddie’s swirling handwriting:  _ ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’  _ with five tiny stars drawn next to it.

As Roger read it, his eyebrows rose, because this song made  _ no fucking sense... _ But it sounded weirdly epic too.

“What’s it about?” he asked.

Finally, Freddie genuinely laughed for the first time in days.

“I have no fucking clue!” He shrugged, smiling. “Whatever you want it to be, I suppose.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**August 21st...** ** _   
_ ** ** _“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low. Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me.” -Bohemian Rhapsody, _ ** **Queen**

  
  


John was surprised when Freddie came skipping into the studio that morning. He looked  _ excited,  _ genuinely excited, but Roger wasn’t with him.

“Where’s Rog?” Brian asked.

“Jewellers,” Freddie said, pulling his notebook from his bag. He skipped through until he found the page he wanted, and all but shoved it into John’s arms. “I’ve a new song. Well, actually, I’ve been working on the bloody thing for months now, but I think I’m finally getting somewhere with it!”

It looked like an utterly nonsense song. John had to do a double take at some of the lines, because they made  _ no sense.  _ At first, it sounded like it was simply about someone on the run from the law, apologising to their mother...But then it sounded like they were dying themselves, perhaps for killing the man, perhaps committing suicide from guilt. And then it read like they were already dead, on the way to hell. Then he thought that maybe he was wrong, and the narrator wasn’t dead at all; maybe his first guess was right, and they were on the run. And some of it didn't fit any narrative at all; some of it made no sense, not that John could see.

“Er...What’s it about, Fred?” Brian asked, reading over John’s shoulder.

“Whatever you want,” Freddie said with a smile. When they stayed quiet, his smile faltered. “Is it that bad?”

“Actually...I like it,” John admitted, smiling despite himself. He looked at the notes Freddie had written; it sounded like it would be a  _ loud  _ one, not just long.

“I’ll need a guitar solo,” Freddie said, looking to Brian, who instantly lit up in delight. “And then there’s the operatic section.”

“The what now?” John asked, which was when Roger came in, looking all too pleased. He triumphantly held up Freddie’s cat pendant.

“Fucking  _ finally! _ ” Roger cried. “Took them long enough.” He beamed at Freddie, holding the necklace out. “May I?”

Freddie grinned without hiding his teeth; he held his hair aside, letting Roger put the necklace on him. Freddie was instantly twisting the chain around his fingers as he chatted away about this new song, this  _ Bohemian Rhapsody.  _ He looked brighter, more like himself.

John didn’t relax, not quite; he doubted Freddie was totally okay again, but at least he looked  _ better.  _

And this song promised to be utterly chaotic to record.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Higher!” Freddie commanded. 

“If I go any louder only dogs will hear me!” Roger looked ready to tear his hair out. Brian outright laughed; Freddie leaned over Brian, his hands on the soundboard.

“Higher,” he repeated stubbornly.

The music started up again, and Roger, in his best falsetto, was stuck repeating  _ “Galileo! Galileo!”  _ until he went red in the face. Freddie only smiled sweetly when Roger glared at him. He'd be lying if he said Roger's frustration didn't amuse him.

“My nuts feel like they’re in my chest right now,” Roger said; he was out of breath by that point. Freddie, still draped over Brian, grinned at him.

“Can’t have that, can we?” he laughed. 

“Do we even have any tape left?” Brian asked, looking to Deacy.

“Admittedly, the tape can’t take much more,” Deacy said, his feet on the table. “What do you think, Fred?”

“Perfect,” Freddie said. “Come on out, Rog.”

Roger sagged in relief, throwing his headphones aside.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It took weeks to perfect. August ended, September started; they were halfway through September when Freddie declared himself happy with  _ Bohemian Rhapsody.  _

Foster meanwhile, was furious with them. He rang every day, demanding to know what was taking so long. He threatened to dock their wages, to fire them; he demanded they hurry up and finish right now, “the Omega’s weird song be damned!”

Okay, maybe they took a little longer than necessary out of spite. Truth be told, Freddie had been happy with the finished product three days ago, but he couldn’t resist annoying Foster. He was just so  _ easy  _ to annoy. He always seemed to skip “irritated” and went straight to “boiling rage.” 

And it  _ had  _ been fun to record. They’d gotten so into it that they had fallen over each other, landing in a heap on the floor.

“Happy now?” Roger asked, breathless from all the laughing.

Freddie, who’d landed on top of Deacy, nodded, still giggling. “It’s perfect,” he said happily.

“A-side material,” Brian said, flat on his back. “A-side for sure.”

It was what Freddie had hoped for. He hugged Deacy tightly, grinning widely at them all.

“You guys alright in there?” Roy asked. Deacy gave a thumbs-up, one arm still around Freddie.

“All done, darling!” Freddie said, pushing himself up. “And we’ve got our single picked out!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 20th, EMI Studios** ** _   
_ ** ** _“You’re gonna go far, kid. With a thousand lies, and a good disguise, hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes. When you walk away, nothing more to say. See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives.” -You’re Gonna Go Far Kid, _ ** **The Offspring**

_ “Any way the wind blows…” _

Foster let out a tired little groan as the song finished, taking a long drag of his cigar. Reid looked quite baffled, Miami seemed interested; Brian had been nodding along to the music, Roger lounged casually, an arm around Freddie’s waist, who was twisting his pendent around his fingers again.

John watched Foster warily. The executive’s eyes were narrowed behind his sunglasses, and John just barely heard him mutter “Jesus Christ.”

For a moment, they were all silent. The only noise in the office was the faint scratching and humming from the recorder.

“Well,” Foster eventually said, leaving his cigar in the ashtray. “I’m not quite sure that’s the album you promise me, now is it?”

“It’s better than what we promised,” Freddie said, his chin tilted up proudly. “It’s better than any other album you’ve been promised, darling, it’s a bloody masterpiece.”

“It  _ is  _ a good album,” Reid agreed.

“We prefer masterpiece,” Roger said, grinning.

“It’s expensive,” Foster snapped. “And as for  _ Bo- Boheim… _ ”

_ “Bohemian Rhapsody,”  _ Brian said.

“Hm. That. It makes no  _ sense,  _ for fuck’s sake. What’s it even  _ about?  _ And it goes on forever, six bloody minutes!”

“I pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever,” Freddie said blandly. Roger snorted, Brian buried his face in his hands to hide his grin, and John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Miami’s lips twitched in amusement.

“It’s too long,” Foster insisted.

“Too bad,” Freddie said. “Because it’s our single.”

“No,” Foster said firmly. “Anything over three minutes, and the radios won’t play it. You want this as your single? Cut it down to three minutes.”

“No,” Freddie said, just as stubborn, folding his arms. Brian sat up straighter, Roger’s grip on Freddie’s waist tightened.

Foster looked over the lyrics again, shaking his head.

“I doubt they’ll play it anyway,” he said, ignoring Freddie. “Galileo...Scara-whatsit...Izmilla...Ishbillah…”

“Bismillah,” Freddie said quietly, but there was a steely glint in his eyes.

“Aye,” Foster scoffed. “Whatever you say, Omega. Prenter must have hit your head harder than we thought, you’re talking nonsense.”

_ “Oi!”  _ Roger was instantly on his feet, snarling. Brian growled under his breath, and Miami took a protective step closer to the band. John clutched the edge of his seat, prepared to join Roger if he had to.

“It’s Arabic,” Freddie said flatly. His fists were clenched. “As for what it’s about, that’s for the listener to decide. It ruins the mystery otherwise.”

“It ruins  _ sales,  _ Mercury.” Foster pushed the lyrics to  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ aside, scanning their other songs. “It won’t work as a single, surely even an Omega can understand that. You need to pick something else. What about  _ I’m In Love With My Car?  _ It’s catchy, I’ll give you that, Taylor; it’s something kids can bang their heads to in the car.”

If he’d hoped to appease Roger it didn’t work; the Alpha stayed standing, still snarling. Seeing the open fury on Roger’s face, Foster turned to Reid.

“Reid,” he said impatiently. “Work with me here.”

“He’s right boys,” Reid said, which felt like a slap in the face. Reid had never sided with Foster over  _ Queen  _ before. “We need the radio, and they won’t take  _ Bohemian Rhapsody.  _ How about  _ Love Of My Life?  _ That one was lovely.”

“No,” Brian said.

“Then what about John’s song? The one for Veronica? That was sweet, catchy-”

“No,” John cut across Reid himself. “We want  _ Bohemian Rhapsody. _ ”

“It’s our decision,” Brian insisted. “It’s our album!”

“And it’s  _ my money, _ ” Foster snarled. “We’re going with  _ I’m In Love With My Car. _ ”

“We’re going with BoRhap,” Roger snapped, using their private nickname for the song. “And that’s it.”

Freddie stood up, linking hands with Roger. “Or we walk.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,  _ get a grip.  _ No station will play that song, it’s all nonsense!”

That was when Miami cut in; “Hear them out, Ray,” he said calmly. “They’re more popular than you realise. Say the name  _ Queen  _ and people stop to listen. They love these boys, I don’t doubt they’d love this song.”

“Maybe so,” Foster said. “But not as the single.” He glared around at them all, silently daring them to speak up. “I  _ paid  _ for this album,” he repeated. “So what I say goes. Bismillah  _ bullshit!  _ It’s not happening; we’re going with Taylor’s song, and that’s that.”

Freddie bristled like an angry cat. “But we-”

_ “I don’t want to hear another word out of you!”  _ Foster punched his desk so hard they all flinched, even Reid and Miami. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Mercury; one of these days someone’s going to put you in your place, I warn you!”

“If you lay a hand on him,” Roger began hotly, only for Foster to cut over him; “A gawky thing like him? Get real, Taylor.”

Once more, silence reigned. Roger was trembling with rage, growling, but when he raised his fist, Freddie grabbed it, calmly lowering it. John and Brian stood, edging closer to their friends.

“I know my place,” Freddie said, standing as tall as he could. “And it’s not bowing to you.” He turned towards the door, strutting away. Grinning, John followed him; Roger smirked, going to Freddie to slip an arm around him again. Brian strode after them, head held high. 

It seemed to take Foster a moment to realise what they were doing, and when he did he went red.

“You-”

“Enjoy being the man who lost  _ Queen, _ ” Freddie said, and then they were out the door, with Miami following behind.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Maybe it was petty. Maybe it was stupid. But Freddie had put up with EMI’s abuse and blatant discrimination for two years; he’d listened to them degrade him and all other Omegas, he’d had to sit silently as Foster insulted him, he’d had to dodge Sheffield’s wandering hands, he’d been forced to hold his tongue at everyone’s innuendos, but now he was  _ done. _

So he grabbed a rock lying next to the fountain, a rock even bigger than his fist, and he threw it at Foster’s window as hard as he could.

“Jesus, Freddie!” Brian gasped as the glass shattered.

“Worth it,” Freddie hissed, viciously gleeful as Foster and Reid’s shocked faces appeared in the window. Smiling, Freddie flipped Foster off.

“You can take that out of our royalties!” he called. That broke his boys’ composure; they all began to laugh. Even Miami, still lingering in the doorway, started to smile.

“Prat!” Deacy suddenly yelled; he looked surprised and delighted with himself. It only made Roger laugh harder.

“Wankers!” Foster shouted back, but Freddie and his boys all linked arms, marching away together.

“Shove your gold discs!” Roger called over his shoulder.

“You’ll never _ have  _ any gold discs, you medium talent!”

_ Medium talent,  _ Freddie thought with a snort.  _ Sure thing, darling. _

“You made a mistake, Foster!” Brian yelled, still laughing. Miami hurried after them as they made their way to the van.

“I’m not sure that was the wisest move, Freddie,” he said.

“Worth it,” Freddie said, grinning. “So  _ very  _ worth it, darling.”

“What now?” Deacy asked.

“Now,” Freddie said. “We release our album, we release the single  _ we  _ want, and we take the damn world by storm.”

As for how they’d accomplish that, he had an idea. Kenny Everett had been so lovely when he last interviewed them. Dramatic, friendly and mischievous. Freddie hoped he’d still be up for some mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farewell EMI, you sexist pigs.   
Freddie's still not wholly convinced what happened at the farm wasn't his fault, but if anything will do wonders for your confidence, it's thousands of screaming fans 😉


	27. Now I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen gets a new label; Bohemian Rhapsody reaches number one, and the boys start a world tour...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one hell of a busy week, so sorry for the delay guys 😅  
(Also, MCR is back and I'm losing my shit)

**October, 1975** **  
** ** _“So raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways; all my underdogs, we will never be never be, anything but loud, and nitty-gritty dirty little freaks. Won't you come on, and come on, and raise your glass? Just come on, and come on, and raise your glass!” -Raise Your Glass, _Pink**

The funny thing, Brian thought, was that Foster was technically right. The critics were lukewarm to outright dismissive (and sometimes needlessly harsh) about _ Bohemian Rhapsody. _ Yet Freddie had been right too, because the fans _ loved _it. Kenny had been a little star, playing BoRhap on his show again and again, and the requests came flooding in.

_ Omegas can’t write good songs, my ass! _ It was a hit, and the critics could complain all they wanted. They didn’t care about the press, they cared about their fans. If their fans were happy, if they enjoyed it, then _ Queen _were happy.

Of course, EMI were being dicks- what else was new? They were doing their best to make this last album a flop. They refused to have an official launch party; since _ Queen _walked out, they argued that Foster owed them nothing. Not that he’d ever given them much of anything.

Then, of course, they’d argued that the contract wasn’t up, they were in violation and had to do what EMI said. Miami happily pointed out that no, actually, the album was complete and the single had been released. Ergo, _ Queen _were free to start looking for a new label.

Brian had been able to hear Foster swearing and shouting at Miami over the phone, and he’d been on the other side of Miami’s office. Foster certainly had a set of lungs on him.

Whatever their threats, whatever their dismissals, EMI were soon eating their words as _ A Night At The Opera _ climbed the charts. It was what _ Queen _had hoped for, but Brian was still shocked. It was proving to be their most successful album yet, and part of him still expected it all to be some wonderful (and crazy) dream.

But then Reid called them, and asked them to meet in his office.

Instantly, Brian was nervous. His worst thought was that maybe they had to go back to EMI, maybe their lawyers had outsmarted Miami, maybe they were trapped again- and he knew EMI wouldn’t go easy on them if that was the case.

He was relieved to see Reid smiling.

“Congratulations boys,” he said. He linked his fingers together, looking over them all. “I’ve booked you a world tour.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Brian was certain he’d misheard him, because surely this wasn’t real? He was just having a wonderful dream, and he’d wake up any second now.

No. Roger whooped in glee, Freddie screamed with his hands pressed over his mouth, Deacy gaped wordlessly and Brian was just _ stuck, _totally stumped. 

_ “How?” _he gasped.

“Quick work, that’s how,” Reid said. “Besides, with how fast your _ Bohemian Rhapsody’s _climbing the charts, folk were pretty eager to book you. So here’s the plan: you start the tour the day the whole album launches. You’ll be touring the UK first, for the rest of the year, then moving onto America.” He raised an eyebrow at Brian. “Please, no one end up in hospital this time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Brian said dryly.

“Atta boy. Anyway, after that you’ll be back in Japan, and finish the tour in Australia. Sound good, lads?”

“Sounds _ wonderful! _” Freddie was bouncing in his seat, eyes shining. 

Cripes, a world tour. _ A world tour. _Their work was really paying off.

“I’ve had a few offers from other labels for you,” Reid said. “I’ll arrange some meetings before you start touring, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brian said, still struggling to take it all in.

“Right. Any questions in the meantime, you know where to find me.”

  
  
  


They kept it together until they reached the car-park. Then they let rip. Instantly, they were all clinging together, screaming and jumping up and down.

“We’re going on a fucking _ world tour! _” Roger screamed. His grip was so strong it hurt, but Brian couldn’t complain, he was clinging just as tightly.

“Oh my God,” Deacy kept saying. “Oh my God, this is really happening.”

“I _ told _ you we can do anything!” Freddie said, grinning fit to burst. “I fucking _ told _you so!”

“Yes, Fred, you’re a genius,” Brian laughed- but he meant it. Because it was BoRhap that had grabbed everyone’s attention, it was the song that had everyone looking forward to the rest of the album, the one that had everyone wanting to book them for shows, and they were _ going on a world tour. _

“Foster and Sheffield must be dying,” Brian said with a vicious grin. “Think of how much money they’re missing out on.”

“Serves them right,” Roger scoffed.

  
  
  


** _“The threats you made were meant to cut me down, and if our love was just a circus, you'd be a clown by now! You know I'm still standing better than I ever did, looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.” -I’m Still Standing, _ ** **Elton John**

Only four days later, they had a meeting with Turned Up Records, though they already knew damn well they wouldn’t get a good deal off these guys. The CEO, Henry Fitzherbert, was one of Sheffield’s closest friends. Sheffield had sent him early copies of _ Queen’s _ nude photoshoot- specifically, he’d sent Fitzherbert pictures of _ Freddie. _ Fitzherbert had asked Freddie what it would cost for a _ private session. _

He was one Alpha that Freddie did his best to avoid; they’d only met a handful of times at events, but when they did, Fitzherbert treated every Omega in the room like a toy.

Sure enough, Fitzherbert was present when they arrived. The executive looking to work with them was another Alpha named Ross Jenkins. He was tall, skinny, with gold-framed glasses. He _ looked _quite friendly, but they soon saw the problem: he only spoke to Reid, Miami, Brian and Roger. He spoke over Deacy and ignored Freddie entirely.

Fitzherbert didn’t. He made no effort to hide his leer.

“Still together then?” he asked Roger.

“Obviously,” Roger said coldly.

Fitzherbert shook his head; Freddie just about heard him mutter “Pity that.” 

The contract was shit, but you didn’t have to be a genius to see that one coming. It was even _ worse _ than EMI’s. They wanted thirty percent of _ Queen’s _earnings, they wanted to control Freddie’s image, and they’d only pay him forty percent of what the others made.

“That’s more than we pay other Omega artists,” Jenkins said to Roger. “We’d pay it directly to your account, of course.”

“So you’d be paying me extra,” Roger said. He looked seconds away from dragging the rest of them out of the office. 

Jenkins didn’t look apologetic, or the least bit concerned. “You’re his Alpha,” he said. “Of course you’re in charge of his finances.”

“He’s my boyfriend, not my father,” Freddie snapped, finally out of patience. Miami was glaring at Fitzherbert and Jenkins; Reid winced as he read the contract over himself, and looked knowingly at the door. Sure enough, Freddie led the way out.

“I thought we were done with this shit!” Roger snarled as they made their way to the lift. “_ That’s more than we pay other Omega artists. _ Do they even _ have _any Omegas here?”

“Two,” Reid said tiredly. “A bass player and a piano player.”

“How progressive,” Deacy said, rolling his eyes. “Really, I’m so impressed.”

“Well, we’ve three more appointments today,” Reid said. “Let’s see how it goes.”

  
  
  


Admittedly, the second offer was pretty decent. They were in an industry that normally turned Omegas away at the door; once, EMI’s contract had been their best offer. Now though, they weren’t unknown. Now they were popular. Now they were attracting attention more and more.

The second offer said they’d pay Freddie the same amount as EMI did; fifty-sixty percent of what the other three made. There was no sub-clause about Freddie being some Alpha’s sex toy, but they _ did _say they’d assign an Alpha to handle his finances should he and Roger break up, which none of them trusted. It might just say finances, it didn’t say anything about Freddie’s music or image, or following an Alpha’s orders, but they all thought of EMI and said they’d have to “think about it.”

The third offer was the worst yet. Rather than giving any of Freddie’s money to Roger, they wanted to assign an Alpha to watch his finances anyway; not that it would be much. They offered Freddie _ twenty _percent of what Brian and Roger made, and offered Deacy fifty percent. The executive slapped Freddie’s ass when the boys went to leave, and it took Brian, Deacy and Freddie himself to hold Roger back from punching him. Even Miami and Reid had to help wrestle him into the lift.

“Well,” Reid said with a choked cough. “I take it that’s a no.”

“That’s a _ I’ll burn this place down, _” Roger growled. Freddie pressed against the wall, seething with quiet rage.

“If one more person leers at me or touches me today,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll throw the next punch.”

_ Thank God, _ the fourth offer was actually a good one. The executive who wanted to sign them was, of course, an Alpha by the name of Horace Leroy ( _ Horace Leroy! _ Freddie thought. _ Poor bastard! _). He was somewhere in his forties by the look of him; he was well dressed in a pinstripe suit with thick gold rings on his fingers. His thick, bushy moustache was in need of a trim. The CEO of the company, another Alpha named Walter Jones was standing behind him; he actually looked quite young, maybe around Sheffield’s age, though he was already balding.

“Good to meet you, lads,” Horace said. He stood up and shook their hands, even Deacy and Freddie’s. “Sit, sit.”

“Seems you’ve stirred things up a bit,” Walter said; he looked vaguely amused. “That song of yours- _ Bohemian Rhapsody? _Did you really write it, Freddie?”

Honestly, he was surprised to be addressed at this point; no one else had that day. And he was all too used to questions like that. A lot of people had outright refused to believe he’d written _ Killer Queen. _

Freddie looked at him, crossing his legs and tilting his chin up proudly. “Too right I did, darling.”

To his further surprise, Walter and Horace _ both _grinned.

“You’re good, kid,” Walter said. “I’ll give you that, you’ve got talent.”

The contract wasn’t exactly _ perfect; _ in a perfect world, Freddie would be paid equally...But they offered him 70-75%, depending on the sales, which was (to be frank) the best offer they’d ever been given. No mention of an Alpha being assigned to him. Nothing he could see that would let them take his money if they felt like it. They wanted 10% of _ Queen’s _earnings, as opposed to the other offers. 

As usual, they had to say they’d think about it; after all, they did have other labels to meet with, over the next few days.

But in the end, it was the best offer they got, and _ Queen _signed on with Lightning Records.

  
  
  


**November 14th, Liverpool, 1975** **  
** ** _“Here I stand. (Here I stand). Looked around, around, around, around, around. But you won't see me (but you won't see me) Now I'm here. (Now I'm here). Now I'm there. (Now I'm there). I'm just a- just a new man! Yes, you made me live again.” -Now I’m Here, _ ** **Queen**

The album was being launched today, and they were starting their world tour. It was enough to turn anyone’s head, and Roger just couldn’t quite believe it. They were out of EMI, they had a new label, their contract was actually a _ good _one, and they were about to start their world tour.

But best of all, as they checked into their hotel, the receptionist said “Congratulations, boys.”

“Sorry?” Brian asked.

“You haven’t heard?” She grinned at them. “_ Bohemian Rhapsody _just reached number one on the charts.”

_ Holy shit, _ Roger thought. _ Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. _

“Oh.” He had to admire how calm Freddie seemed. He smiled sweetly at the receptionist, who seemed awed by his attention. “No, darling, we didn’t know.”

“Miami or Reid will probably call us.” Brian sounded so blase as he took the room keys. He nodded to the receptionist in thanks; Deacy was biting his lip, poorly hiding a grin. Roger wanted to shriek, or dance, but he managed to hold it together like his boys...Until they reached the lift.

As soon as the doors closed, they all screamed.

_ “FUCK!” _ Roger screamed. _ “HOLY FUCK!” _ He pounced on Freddie, lifting him right up in the air. “You little fucking _ genius, _Fred!” Freddie only laughed, clinging to him like a monkey. The rest of them jumped up and down; Deacy whooped, Brian laughed, clapping his hands. 

And then the lift stopped. The lights flickered for a moment, but the lift didn’t move again. The doors didn’t open. They were still about four floors away from their floor.

“Um…” Freddie peered at the doors with a pout. “Darlings...Are we stuck?”

“Oh, blow me,” Roger muttered.

“Not now, Rog.”

“Fuck off, Fred.”

Brian pressed the button to open the door. Nothing happened. He pressed the button for their floor again. Still nothing.

“If this doesn’t just perfectly sum up our lives, I don’t know what does,” Deacy said flatly. Sighing, he reached out to press the emergency button.

“Number one group in England,” Freddie sighed. “And we’re going to suffocate in a damn lift.”

“No one’s going to suffocate,” Brian said patiently, as Roger set Freddie back on his feet. “We just might have to wait a while.”

Freddie didn’t look convinced. Roger sat on the floor, preparing himself for a long wait. Freddie looked at the floor, frowning.

“It won’t fall, will it, darlings?” he asked. Roger was prepared to brush him off, but then he actually _ looked _at him. Freddie was biting his lip, eyes big and nervous.

“We’re fine, Fred,” he said. He held his arms out, and Freddie joined him on the floor, scowling all about him like he expected an exit to appear from sheer force of will. Brian sat across from them, folding his long legs under himself with some difficulty.

“You know…” Deacy looked at the control panel, hands on his hips. “If I had my tools, I bet I could fix this thing myself.”

“Honestly,” Roger said. “I don’t doubt you.”

“Do you think you could use a hairpin to open it?” Fredie asked hopefully. “I have some in my case.”

“Don’t think so, Freddie,” Deacy said apologetically. “Sorry.” He joined them on the floor. There were a few minutes of awkward silence before Brian sighed and said, “Anyone up for Would You Rather?”

Well, it killed the time.

  
  
  


In the end, they were in the lift for about fifteen minutes. It could have been worse, but they had a concert that night; they’d been hoping to try and relax a bit beforehand, maybe get a nap in, but those fifteen minutes proved to be fatal. Reid was insistent they would fall behind schedule if they lounged around, and urged them to get to the Liverpool Empire Theatre as soon as possible. 

Sometimes, Roger liked Reid a lot. Other times, like when he wanted to rest, he hated Reid.

That didn’t dampen the excitement though.

And, typically, Freddie was dressed to impress; it was an all white outfit, a low-cut white shirt, flared white pants and white platforms. The only splash of colour was the silver glittering corset around his waist.

“I’m going to spoil you rotten later,” Roger promised, kissing him. “You’re writing all our best hits.”

Freddie smirked at him. “I’ve a few ideas of what you can do,” he said. One great thing about trying for a baby, Roger decided, was that it gave him plenty of excuses to ravish his boyfriend.

Said boyfriend winked at him, linking arms with him and Deacy. Deacy reached out to pull Brian in and, all four of them linked, they made their way to the stage.

“Let’s dazzle, darlings!” Freddie said, grinning at them all. 

He didn’t need to tell Roger twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, America, and Joe Fanelli.


	28. Victorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys arrive in America. Roger decides very quickly that he doesn't like Joe Fanelli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the start of jealous!Roger 😏

**January 24th, Waterbury Connecticut, USA, 1976**   
**_“Oh, this has gotta be the good life, this has gotta be the good life, this could really be a good life, good life. Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight, like this city is on fire tonight, this could really be a good life; a good, good life.” -Good Life,_ OneRepublic**

So here they were, back in the USA. Please God, this time no one would end up deathly ill. 

This time, they were on top of the world; this time they were on a world tour. Now, they were topping the charts. Their popularity had soared, and the crowd outside their hotel was insane.

Just like in Japan, they were given a limo. Unlike Japan, they weren’t given any time to say hello to the fans at the hotel; their security team ushered them past the second they got out of the limo, firmly keeping the crowd back. There were six huge security guards assigned to them; all of them were even taller than Brian, about three times broader, and all of them were Alphas. Despite their imposing exterior, they were quite friendly to the band, so long as there were no perceived threats nearby.

It was sure a big change from their last visit.

“I think that crowd was even bigger than the one in Tokyo,” John said. Freddie rushed to open the door to the balcony. Sure enough, they could still hear the crowd, and when they craned their necks over the balcony they could see them. Was it John’s imagination, or was the crowd only growing?

“Getting through that lot will fuck with Reid’s precious schedule,” Roger laughed.

“I’ve a feeling we’ll be late for rehearsal,” Brian said, closing the balcony door. He smiled in thanks as their team set about unpacking for them, and flopped onto the sofa. “I don’t know about you boys, but I need a nap.”

“Jet lag, Brimi, darling,” Freddie said. 

“Worth it, I’m knackered.”

Honestly, so was John, but he was determined to stay awake. Roger on the other hand, went to his and Freddie’s room to lie down. John looked to Freddie, who shrugged ruefully as Brian hauled himself to his feet to sleep in his and John’s room instead, the second Ratty announced they’d finished unpacking.

“Want to watch some awful TV?” John asked.

In response, Freddie snatched up the remote, throwing himself onto the sofa with a grin.

“Let’s see if we can find something truly cringe-worthy, darling.”

  
**Palace Theatre...**   
**_“Do you feel it? Drink the water, drink the wine. Oh, we gotta turn up the crazy; livin' like a washed up celebrity. Shooting fireworks like it's the fourth of July, until we feel all right.” -Victorious,_ Panic! At The Disco**

It was quite a pretty theatre, Roger had to admit. It was the sort of fancy, rich aesthetic that Freddie loved. His boyfriend had been peering at every little detail of the place the moment they arrived. 

And it wasn’t just a rehearsal, they had to meet the rest of the team. There was even more security, assistants, a hair and make-up team (even though they typically did their own hair and make-up, but whatever, Roger wouldn’t turn down the extra help), techs, stagehands, even a catering team. 

Which was how they met Joe Fanelli.

Roger didn’t really notice him at first. He was so focussed on rehearsal; he and Deacy got in a massive argument with one of the techs about the smoke machines, because the damn things were simply too strong. Roger couldn’t be expected to drum with a mouthful of smoke, and the smoke had hit Deacy right in the face. Aesthetic be damned, how were they supposed to play like that? 

One of the stagehands nearly dropped the Red Special and Roger _swore_ his life flashed before his eyes, because if anything happened to Brian’s baby, they were _all_ dead.

Freddie seemed fine so long as he was singing and prancing about, but whenever they took a break, he curled up in a little ball on any available surface and dozed. Roger sat with him and let Freddie rest his head in Roger’s lap.

Finally, they could take an _actual_ break and have some lunch.

That was when he became hyper aware of Joe Fanelli. He was a Beta, the same height as Roger; he had light brown hair and wore thick black glasses; a black dragon tattoo wound around his bicep. He smelled like salt water and citrus. 

He also took one look at Freddie and went bright pink.

Instantly, Roger tensed._ Don’t be daft,_ he told himself. _Plenty of people stare at Freddie._ And indeed, a lot of the staff had been staring at Freddie all day, though no one had been stupid enough to touch him, and Roger hadn’t heard any lewd comments- though he knew all too well that meant nothing. Just because they were quiet around him didn’t mean they were quiet around Freddie.

And America was just as bad as England in its treatment of Omegas. They weren’t in Japan, and Roger was far too used to their staff making disgusting comments or trying to touch Freddie.

He thought of Prenter, he thought of Ridge Farm, and his blood boiled.

If he had to be fair, Fanelli was just _looking._ There wasn’t anything aggressive about his demeanour, nothing possessive about his gaze, but he kept staring. His eyes followed Freddie everywhere. When Freddie caught his eyes and smiled, Fanelli flushed again before quickly looking away.

_Fuck off,_ Roger wanted to snarl. He settled for pulling Freddie closer, one hand tight on Freddie’s hip.

Freddie didn’t seem to notice anything off. He chatted away about rehearsal, about how pretty the theatre was, how he wanted to just _sleep. _

He didn’t notice, but Brian did. He leaned in and whispered, “You okay, Rog?” jerked his head towards Fanelli. Brian glanced at him and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” Brian said, but Roger wasn’t about to let his guard down. The last time he had, Freddie had ended up pinned under Prenter on the ground, screaming for Roger to help him.

Freddie had screamed for _him,_ and Roger wasn’t about to forget that.

As they went back to rehearsal, Roger kept his arm around Freddie’s waist. Freddie beamed up at him, and Roger did his best to forget about everything else, and focus on rehearsal.

  
**January 27th…**   
**_“If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing; I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it coming. They say I did something bad, then why's it feel so good? They say I did something bad, but why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had, and I'd do it over and over and over again, if I could. It just felt so good, good.” -I Did Something Bad,_ Taylor Swift**

Roger took one look at Freddie and his mouth went dry. His eyeliner was winged as usual, his hair fluffed out; his black jumpsuit was almost entirely unzipped, right down to his stomach. He twisted his cat pendant around his fingers, smirking right at Roger.

“Everything alright, darling?” His voice was innocent, but everything else about him sure wasn’t.

“You’re evil,” Roger told him. “Pure fucking evil.”

His own outfit suddenly felt dull in comparison; a loose, low-cut black shirt with white embroidery around the collar, so loose it was nearly falling off, and tight black leather pants.

And he was going to be stuck behind the drums, watching his boyfriend bend in half and grind against Brian all night. Then they had to go straight to the after-party. Fucking _fabulous. _

Still, as he watched Freddie prance about the dressing room, he wasn’t about to complain about the view.

  
Honestly, Roger was so easy to rile up, it was almost funny. Freddie was having plenty of fun with it. Freddie could practically feel his boyfriend’s eyes on him during the show, and made sure to add an extra sway to his hips whenever he moved.

The crowd was fantastic, screaming and clapping along, one of the most energetic crowds Freddie had ever seen. It was just what he needed; it made it so much easier to feed off their energy.

And there was one move that drove them bonkers: he dropped down the mic stand like it was a stripper pole, slowly making his way back up, flicking his hair off his face with an added _come-hither_ crook of his finger.

The screams were deafening; he saw one young man actually stagger on the spot. Freddie made sure to glance back at Roger, smirking. Sure enough, Roger’s eyes were glued to him; he was looking a little red in the face, and downright possessive. Well they _were_ trying for a baby. No harm in helping things along.

Freddie winked at him, and Roger’s grin widened, almost wolfish. 

Yeah, Freddie thought as he turned back to the crowd. Yeah, he had _a lot_ to look forward to tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rog is possessive and protective. Freddie is a minx. That is all.


	29. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's insecurities come to the fore, and Freddie deals with the fall out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger has issues. It's well known by now that Rog has issues; he thinks Freddie's too good for him, for one. Trust issues, temper issues. Time to focus on that for a bit.

** _“Look into his angel eyes, one look and you're hypnotized; he'll take your heart and you must pay the price. Look into his angel eyes, you'll think you're in paradise, and one day you'll find out he wears a disguise. Don't look too deep into those angel eyes.” -Angel Eyes, _ ** **Mamma Mia 2 (cover)**

The after party was insane. The typical stuff, if Freddie was honest; non-stop drink, deafening music, people doing drugs in the corner. It was so packed that it was difficult to move, and every few seconds, strangers grabbed ahold of him to congratulate him on the show.

The downside was that there were no windows, and if there was any air-conditioning, Freddie couldn’t feel it.

“I’m going to get some air,” he told Roger. He had to yell it three times before Roger got the gist and waved him off.

Thankfully, the outdoor smoking area wasn’t crowded; it was nearly empty actually. Only a few staff members; Freddie knew their faces but not their names, but he saw Crystal, and Joe Fanelli.

Joe glanced at him and smiled. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just needed some air,” Freddie said. He went over and leaned against the wall. 

“And you thought you’d find some fresh air in the smoking area?” Joe laughed.

“Beats the bathroom, darling,” Freddie said, ducking his head as he grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun and all, but you can barely move in there.”

“Yeah, true.” Joe finished his cigarette, tossing the stub into the nearest ashtray. He cleared his throat. “Great show by the way. You killed it.”

“Thanks, darling,” Freddie said. He nudged him with a smile. “And thanks for not grabbing me while saying that.”

“Fuck, is that what everyone’s been doing?”

“Oh, they’re just drunk,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“You’re not drinking?”

“I can’t afford to be drunk tonight.” Freddie bit back a smile. “I have plans.”

“Oh?” Joe raised an eyebrow, and then the penny dropped. “_ Oh. _Plans. I get you.” 

“Freddie?” There was Roger in the doorway. He hopped off the last few sets and came over, frowning at Joe. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, darling.” Freddie held onto his arm, smiling up at him, but Roger kept frowning at Joe. Joe lit another cigarette; he nodded at Roger with a shy smile- a smile Roger didn’t return in the slightest. He looked outright murderous, and Freddie nearly flinched back. Joe _ did. _

“Darling?” Freddie frowned at Roger, squeezing his arm. 

“You ready to head back in?” Roger asked. He sounded impatient. Freddie nodded, and Roger slipped out of his grip, heading back towards the door, fists clenched.

“Sorry about him,” Freddie quickly said to Joe. This was quickly turning embarrassing. It was one thing to bristle and snarl at someone like Paul, but Roger and Joe hadn’t even said two words to each other. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“It’s fine, really,” Joe said. He turned away, looking up at the sky. Freddie huffed and followed after Roger.

They didn’t go back to the dancefloor or bar. Freddie grabbed Roger’s hand dragged him to the front door, back onto the main street.

“Darling, what the hell?” he demanded. “You were looking at Joe like you wanted to kill him!”

Roger scowled, hands in his pockets. “I don’t like him,” he muttered.

“You don’t _ know _him,” Freddie said impatiently. “Out with it: what’s wrong?”

“Oh come on, you saw how he was looking at you!” Roger said.

“What are you on about?”

“He fancies you,” Roger said. “It’s bloody obvious.”

“Oh, _ darling! _ No, he doesn’t, and even if he did _ so what? I _ don’t fancy _ him, _ doesn’t _ that _ matter?” Freddie crossed his arms. “Rog, I love you. You don’t see me getting in a tizzy every time someone fancies _ you. _ For goodness sake, we were just _ talking. _” Roger still wasn’t looking at him, and Freddie’s chest suddenly tightened. “Roger, come on, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” Roger finally looked at him, seemingly genuinely surprised by the question. But he was still frowning. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

“How healthy,” Freddie said flatly.

“You know what I mean,” Roger snapped.

“No,” Freddie said. “I don’t. You don’t glare at Brian like that, or Deacy, or Miami.”

“Well _ they _ don’t want to get in your pants!”

“Oh for the love of- Roger, listen to me.” Freddie grabbed him by the shoulders, out of patience. “_ I don’t fancy Joe Fanelli. _ I’m in love with _ you. _ Even if Joe fancies me, he wouldn’t get anywhere. No one will. I’m with _ you, _okay? You can’t go around thinking that everyone’s going to snatch me away.”

Roger didn’t look convinced. It felt like a slap. He turned away from Freddie.

“Let’s just get back to the hotel,” he muttered. “Come on, there’s got to be a taxi around here somewhere.” He started to walk away, but Freddie didn’t move.

“Roger.” He hated how his voice cracked. “Rog, you’re not listening to me.”

“I am,” Roger insisted. “Let’s just _ go, _please.”

Normally, Freddie would run after him. It felt like this argument was quickly spiralling out of control, into a full-blown fight, and he hated that Roger didn’t believe him. He could say he trusted Freddie all he wanted, but it didn’t feel like it right then.

“No,” he said. “No, I want to talk about this.”

“Not now,” Roger said impatiently, scowling at Freddie over his shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, we’re in the middle of the street, we can talk about it in the hotel.”

He thought of all the plans he had for tonight. They were clearly down the drain. This whole night had been such a high, how were they arguing? Because Freddie had talked to Joe? Because Roger thought that Joe fancied him? Well, Freddie meant it; even if Joe _ did _ fancy him, surely it didn’t matter, so long as Freddie didn’t fancy him? God, it was just _ one _conversation!

“So, what, I can’t _ talk _to people now?” he burst out. “Do I need your permission to make friends with people from now on?”

“Don’t be so daft, Fred.”

“_ You’re _ the one in a huff because I _ talked _to someone!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I just-” Roger cut himself off, finally turning to face Freddie again. His fists were clenched, he was barely biting back a snarl. “Just _ drop it, _for five minutes.”

“I’m not getting into a taxi with you like this,” Freddie insisted. “This is ridiculous.”

“So now I’m ridiculous?” Roger demanded.

_ “Yes,” _Freddie snapped, before he could stop himself. 

Roger was openly snarling now. “Fine,” he said coldly. “Have it your way.” And he stormed off, not looking back.

“Roger!” Freddie yelled after him. “Roger, for fuck’s sake!”

He didn’t turn around. Freddie fought with the urge to run after him, to take back everything he’d said. Why should he always have to be the one to calm Roger down? Was he seriously in the wrong for being embarrassed about Roger’s attitude? 

Maybe he was. 

No, fuck that. Roger was acting like- like such an _ Alpha. _

His eyes stung, his lip trembled, and _ fuck that, _he’d done more than enough crying lately. He wasn’t going to cry over this, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. 

Sniffling despite himself, he went back inside.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“And I guess the bad can get better, gotta be wrong before it's right. Every happy phrase engraved in my mind, and I've always been a go-getter, there's truth in every word I write. But still the growing pains, growing pains, they're keeping me up at night.” -Growing Pains, _ ** **Alessia Cara**

He couldn’t find Brian or Deacy anywhere. It was too crowded, the music felt too loud, and he was struggling with the urge to run after Roger and apologise. But damn it, why _ should _he, when he knew that Roger was back in the hotel, likely waiting for him to apologise first, and more than likely still fuming? Why should he feel so close to crying when Roger wasn’t?

Damn it, he hated this. There was no point being here. 

He lasted maybe ten minutes, listening to more drunken congratulations which just made him feel _ worse, _before he ran right back out of the club.

Okay. Fine then. He’d just go back to the hotel and try to defuse the situation. He started to walk, when a familiar voice said, “You okay, Freddie?”

Well, just his luck. There was Joe, right behind him, looking concerned.

“Fine,” Freddie said. 

“You look like you’re going to cry, buddy.”

“I’m not.” He might.

“I…Look, I’m sorry if I pissed Roger off.” Joe took a cautious step closer, but he kept his distance. 

“No, dear, I think I did that.” Freddie managed a wan smile. “I kind of snapped at him. Said he was acting like a dick.” 

“He’s pretty scary when he glares like that,” Joe agreed with a little laugh, but his smile quickly faded. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

And, well, Brian wasn’t there. Deacy wasn’t there. Roger sure as fuck wasn’t there, and Freddie hated it. He shook his head, willing his eyes to stay dry. It didn’t work. He didn’t cry, thank God, but he felt dangerously close again.

“Oh shit, hey, I-” Joe hesitated, but he came over and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay. Couples fight all the time.”

“We don’t,” Freddie mumbled. It was so _ weird. _ Usually they were on the same side. When was the last time they argued, _ really _argued, yelling and all? Not at the studio, but at home.

Well. Probably when he found out that Roger lied about his meeting with Foster and Sheffield. But that had ended rather quickly, all things considered. It had ended with them actually _ being _together, not dancing around it anymore.

This felt different. This felt worse, and it felt like Roger wasn’t listening to him at all.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. He wanted to kick himself, because he didn’t _ know _Joe, he shouldn’t say anything to him, this wasn’t his business. But he couldn’t find his friends, his boyfriend was pissed at him, and he felt like shit. 

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, which was stupid, Freddie thought, because this wasn’t Joe’s fault, not really. Was it his fault, or Roger’s? He wanted to keep being angry, he wanted to storm into the hotel in a huff and make Roger apologise first, but that wasn’t going to happen, was it? Because he felt dangerously close to tears, and Roger didn’t trust him. 

The tears escaped before he could stop them. _ Fuck, _this was embarrassing.

“Ah, shit.” Joe hugged him, patting him on the back. “Shit. Freddie, come on, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Sorry,” Freddie said, mortified. He went to pull away, but Joe’s arms stayed around him.

“It’s fine,” he said. “You’re fine.” He sighed. “Come on, let’s find a cab, hm?”

“I can find one myself,” Freddie said.

“We’re going to the same place,” Joe pointed out. “And I’d have to be an idiot to leave an Omega alone in the streets at night.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The ride back to the hotel was awkward. Neither of them spoke much, and Freddie stared determinedly out the window. 

Joe’s room was the floor below his. He offered Freddie a quick smile and a “Good night,” as he left the lift. Freddie barely managed to smile back. The walk down the hall to his room seemed to last a year. His legs felt heavy, and he didn’t want to go in there. The entire suit was dark when he opened the door; he could faintly hear snoring coming from Brian and Deacy’s room, so he knew at least one of them had made it back safely.

His and Roger’s room was as dark as the rest of the suite. Roger turned over, muttering in his sleep.

Sighing, Freddie tugged his clothes off and slipped into bed. Part of him wanted to turn over and curl up against Roger, to pull Roger’s arm over him and rest his head on Roger’s chest like he always did.

Instead, he kept his back to him. Well then. Nice to know Roger had no problems drifting off. 

_ This is stupid, _ he thought. _ This is so stupid. _ He could wake Roger up right now and demand an apology. He could wake him up and apologise to end the fight right now. But why _ should _he, when Roger was the one acting like a jealous prick? 

He couldn’t make his mind up, he felt too wound up to sleep. At least they didn’t have a show tomorrow- or today, rather, it was well past three in the morning now.

He tossed and turned for an hour, trying to shut his brain off. Eventually, he got up, pulled on his dressing gown and went to the living room, turning on the TV.

Fine then. Fuck this. _ Fuck this. _Roger was the one who started this, Roger was the one who stormed off, and Roger was sleeping like the dead with no bother. He could apologise first, Freddie decided. Because he sure as fuck wasn’t.

He felt sick to his stomach all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor boys. They'll sort it out soon, I promise ❤


	30. Cruel Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, 30 chapters, this is officially the longest part of the series! I'm proud 😂 How long will this be overall? Who knows? I sure don't.
> 
> Anyway, I've got a new job, so things are BUSY, but I'll hopefully be able to write a lot more this weekend! Sorry for the slow updates guys, just bear with me for now 💕  
(Also, my team leader is an angel: she gave me a plushie to hold onto/fidget with when my anxiety acts up, I love her.)

** _“Killing me slow, out the window, I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn't kill me makes me want you more. And it's new. The shape of your body, it's blue; the feeling I've got, and it's ooh-whoa-oh. It's a cruel summer.” -Cruel Summer, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Roger had tossed and turned for quite a while; he kept expecting Freddie to walk into the room, but he didn’t. If he was totally honest, he felt like a dick for leaving Freddie like that. He should probably get up and go find him. 

But he didn’t.

If Freddie wanted to be stubborn that was on him. Fuck it. If he wanted to stay at the club, let him. If he wanted to hang off Fanelli’s arm, let him.

But he hadn’t been, had he? They’d just been talking.

_ Fuck,  _ what he snapped like that for? He couldn’t say he felt bad for glaring at Fanelli, but he’d snapped at  _ Freddie.  _ Fuck. Freddie was going to kill him for that. 

If he ever showed up.

Roger wasn’t sure what time he fell asleep at, but Freddie still wasn’t back. He slept heavily, but it felt like he blinked and suddenly it was mid-morning. He felt even tireder than before. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes drooped- and his heart sank when he realised Freddie’s side of the bed was empty. No kittenish snuffling noises; no warm body tucked under his arms, no sleepy murmurs. 

_ Shit.  _ Sudden fear made him jump up. Shit,  _ shit,  _ he’d left Freddie outside the club, in the middle of New York at  _ night. Fuck-fuck-fuck,  _ where was he? 

_ Calm down,  _ Roger told himself as he tugged his shirt on.  _ He might have slept on the sofa. He might be with Brian and Deacy. _

But what kind of idiot left an Omega alone in a strange city after dark? God, if something had happened to Freddie…

When he rushed into the living room, Brian and Deacy were watching TV. No sign of Freddie.

“Where’s Freddie?” Roger blurted out, heart pounding.

Deacy gave him an unimpressed stare. Oh shit, he knew, didn’t he? “In the bath,” Deacy said, tone clipped. His eyes narrowed. “He looked like he’d been crying.”

“Oh,” Roger said weakly. Brian raised an eyebrow.

“What happened?” he asked.

“We, er...Kinda had a fight.” Roger tugged on his hair, looking towards the bathroom. “About Fanelli.”

“Oh,  _ Rog, _ ” Brian groaned. “I told you it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not taking that chance,” he snapped. “Not after what happened, do I look stupid?”

“Yes,” Deacy said flatly. “Very. You can’t stop Freddie from talking to people.”

“I’m  _ not! _ ”

“And you can’t assume everyone’s like Prenter.”

“I  _ don’t-  _ I...Uh…” He trailed off, biting his lip. Because, if he was honest, he did. He was all too used to people trying to hurt Freddie; he was used to people leering and talking about him like he was a toy. It was...Sort of the immediate assumption by now. It had practically become routine, and it made him sick. 

“Roggie,” Brian said gently. “He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

“But he shouldn’t  _ have  _ to,” Roger insisted. God knew Freddie had been left alone for years, and it wasn’t as if he was being looked after in Zanzibar anyway. It had always turned Roger’s stomach, it had always hurt to know that Freddie, kind, loving Frddie had been alone. Freddie hadn’t given them the full truth at first: he’d just told them that he didn’t have a family anymore, and they hadn’t questioned it. It wasn’t until news of the Zanzibar Revolution hit that the whole story came pouring out, and it had solidified everything in Roger’s mind; he was going to protect Freddie, he was going to look after him. He  _ wanted  _ to. 

“I’m not going to stop looking after him,” Roger said. “He’s my best friend, he’s my  _ boyfriend. _ ”

“I’m not saying that you need to stop looking after him,” Brian said. “I’m saying you need to trust him.”

“I do.”

“And other people,” Deacy chimed in, frowning. “Not everyone’s out to get him.”

Roger quite begged to differ, even if he reluctantly saw what Deacy meant, because look at where his suspicions had landed him.

“Was he angry?” Roger asked quietly.

“Quite,” Deacy said. He turned back to the TV. “But mostly he just seemed sad. Like I said, he’d clearly been crying.”

He’d made Freddie cry again, but for all the wrong reasons this time.

He didn’t need Deacy or Brian to tell him to apologise for this one. The idea that Freddie wouldn’t want to see him nagged at him, making him feel sick, but they needed to talk, Roger knew that. He needed to- to try and explain, to tell Freddie what he’d been thinking about.

He turned towards the bathroom, hyper-aware of Brian staring at him as he walked away. Taking a deep breath, feeling stupidly shy and nervous (because they  _ didn’t fight,  _ not really, not outside practice, not like this), he knocked.

“Fred?” he called. “Can I come in?”

There was a faint sigh, water swishing, and then Freddie said “Fine.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't want to go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment. And all I can breathe is your life. And sooner or later it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight. And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.” -Iris, _ ** **Goo Goo Dolls**

The bath was nearly overflowing with bubbles; everything from the shoulders down was lost in the foam.

Freddie looked at him, frowned and turned to face the wall, hunched over himself.

“You, uh- you got back okay?”  _ Smooth, Roger, really smooth. _

“Yes,” Freddie said coldly. “Joe found me and made sure I got in a taxi.” He looked at Roger, eyes narrowed. “Is that okay, or is that against the rules too?”

Roger winced, leaning against the counter. “Okay,” he sighed. “I maybe deserved that one.” At Freddie’s continued glare he added, “I deserved that one.” This all felt so foreign. Not fighting in general, he was well used to that; family, friends, partners, strangers...But not with Freddie. They were usually on the same side.

Knowing Freddie was pissed at him (worse still, knowing he’d made Freddie cry) was killing him. He felt like a total dick. God, he’d sounded like  _ Michael,  _ and the thought horrified him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking at the floor.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Freddie asked, equally quiet.

_ “No!”  _ Roger cried. “Jesus, Fred, that’s not- it’s not  _ you,  _ fucked I trust you, I  _ promise  _ I do, it’s...It’s everyone else. Like I said, I- I just...Normally, when we meet people, they- they want you. They want to fuck you, or they want something from you. And…”

_ “ROGER! ROGGIE!” _

_ Roger jerked awake, heart pounding. That was Freddie screaming, that was  _ Freddie,  _ oh shit, oh fuck, what had happened now? _

_ He jumped out of bed, tripping over himself, pushing Brian and Deacy out of his way (and nearly knocking Brian down he stairs in the process.) _

_ He slammed the door open, and there was Freddie, pinned underneath Prenter, groaning in pain, with Prenter’s hand tight on his neck. _

_ Understanding hit instantly, and with a roar of sheer rage, Roger pounced- _

_ -There were too many people here, far too many people, too many Alphas. Even Roger, Alpha that he was, was beginning to feel uncomfortable being naked in front of all these people. _

_ But what made his blood boil, what had him snarling, was the comments about Freddie. Half the time, the fuckers didn’t even bother to keep their voices down. _

_ “Bet the little slut’s enjoying this,” he heard one assistant laugh, and it was a real struggle not to go over and punch the guy. How could they possibly think that Freddie was enjoying their stares, their leers and taunts, all their hands on him? _

_ He looked at Freddie, lying on the ground, tiny and naked and near tears, and he honestly felt like he could have burned EMI to the ground for this- _

_ -More bassist auditions, and Roger was quickly losing hope. Fucking hell, they’d accidentally stumbled upon the best singer in England and now they couldn’t find a half-decent bass player? Just their luck. _

_ But this guy, Peter, he was  _ good.  _ He was a tall, athletic looking Alpha with shaggy blonde hair and an easy-going manner. He even managed to keep up with Brian’s playing, unlike the last three guys. He returned Roger’s teasing comments with a grin, and he hadn’t seemed too surprised to realise that Freddie was an Omega. Actually, he hadn’t even commented on it. It was a surprise, but a relief. _

_ “We’ll let you know,” Roger said, and Peter thanked them all with a smile. They were all three feeling hopeful, but when Roger popped outside for a cigarette (God knew he’d had enough of Brian complaining about the smell for one afternoon), Peter was hanging around, smoking himself.  _

_ “Hey,” Roger said, nodding in greeting. _

_ Peter grinned when Roger stood next to him, flicking his ash. _

_ “I was meaning to ask,” Peter said. “About that Omega.” _

_ Instantly, just like that, Roger was back on guard. _

_ “What about him?” _

_ “I was just wondering- if I get in, I get to share him too, right?” _

_ Roger was so surprised he dropped his cigarette. “I-  _ what? _ ” He was snarling, but Peter only laughed. _

_ “Oh come on, you and Brian are fucking him, right? I know he’s a good singer, don’t get me wrong, but he’s an  _ Omega. _ ” His grin widened. “That’s what they’re best at, that’s what they’re  _ for.  _ That’s why you keep him, isn’t it?” _

_ “He’s with us because he’s the best singer we’ve ever heard,” Roger growled. “He’s not some  _ toy,  _ he’s not a pet!” _

_ “Come on, mate, you can tell me. I won’t say anything.” _

_ “We’re not fucking him.” Roger’s fists were shaking. “And  _ you’re  _ sure as hell not getting anywhere near him.” _

_ He stormed back inside. That evening, as they discussed the auditions, Roger put his foot down and refused Peter. At first, he wouldn’t say why, because Freddie didn’t need that shit in his life, but when Brian pushed it, Roger had to tell them. At least the bare bones of it. _

_ “He’s a creep about Omegas,” he said apologetically. Brian stiffened. Without a word, he tore Peter’s contact details in half. _

_ Freddie sighed, drooping in his seat. He suddenly looked exhausted. “Of course he is,” he mumbled. And then, just like that, he was smiling brightly. “Oh well, my darlings, back to the drawing board, hm?” _

Roger shook himself back to reality. He felt sick.

“I hate feeling like I can’t protect you,” he said. “But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I can’t. I keep fucking it up.”

“No, you don’t,” Freddie said. He scooted closer to the edge of the bath, folding his arms on the edge. “Roggie, you  _ do  _ protect me- you always do, and I love you, but you can’t assume everyone’s out to hurt me. Darling, that isn’t  _ healthy. _ ” He paused, frowning. “You’ve been like this since the Farm. More on edge.”

“Duh,” Roger scoffed. 

Freddie’s frown only deepened. “Then talk to someone,” he said. “Go back to therapy.”

“I’m not the one who nearly got raped!” Roger protested, and he immediately winced at his own words. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean that, I-”

“It’s the truth,” Freddie said. “That’s what he wanted. We all know that.” He certainly looked too pale at the reminder. Cautiously, Roger knelt down to take his hand, immediately sagging in relief when Freddie let him.

“You need to talk about it,” Freddie said quietly. “Because, Roggie darling, we’re going to meet a  _ lot  _ of strangers in this job, and you can’t assume the worst of them all. It sounds exhausting.”

“...Fine,” Roger muttered. He squeezed Freddie’s hand tightly. “I’m sorry for storming off. I shouldn’t have left like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Freddie agreed. “Do that again and it’ll be a rock through  _ your  _ window next time, got it?”

“Got it,” Roger said. He didn’t doubt that Freddie meant it too.

“Are we okay?” he asked, before he could stop himself. To his surprise, Freddie looked relieved.

“We’re okay, darling,” Freddie said.

Honestly, Roger was relieved himself, especially when Freddie let him stay, to sit and chat. After all, they did have a lot to talk about, Freddie had been right about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rumour right from the start that Freddie's the band's toy, and sadly it's not just the press who say so. People suck, society sucks.
> 
> Coming up next: Freddie and Roger's continued talk and make-up, and another concert. Freddie and Joe have a chat. Roger may be suspicious of Joe, but the feeling is beginning to become mutual...


	31. Overthinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's old insecurities come pouring out as the tour continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More emotions; Roggie has insecurities and issues.

** _“And I think my brain is breakin', and it's just myself I've been blamin'. It's frustratin’. I just wanna know why. And I know no good can come of it, I wish that I could just be done with it. But I'm sinkin', I just wanna know why I'm overthinkin'.” -Overthinking, _ ** **Orla Gartland**

Kneeling on the tiles wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Roger stayed there, clinging to Freddie’s hand.

“I really am sorry,” he repeated. “It’s not- it wasn’t _ you _I was mad with, I promise.”

Freddie nodded. Some of the suds clung to his pendant. 

“Did I really make you cry?” Roger hesitantly asked, wondering if he even wanted an honest answer.

Freddie nodded again, and Roger winced.

“Fuck,” he muttered. That might have been what he hated the most. The idea itself made him nauseous. He’d always hated it when Freddie cried- being the reason made it a thousand times worse.

“You look like you just murdered Ziggy,” Freddie said, slouching further into the bath. 

“I made you cry,” Roger said, shame-faced.

“Hm…” Freddie raised an eyebrow at him, tilting his head. “It’s not like you made me bawl, darling.” He sighed, pushing his hair back. “I did freak out though, I’ll admit.” 

Yeah, Deacy had made that plain.

“I was worried you didn’t trust me,” Freddie said. “That you didn’t want me talking to Joe because you thought I was flirting or something.”

“No,” Roger said firmly. “Like I said, I...It’s _ him. _Everyone, I guess. They always seem to want to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself, Rog,” Freddie said, a little more gently. “You can’t follow me everywhere.”

“I know.” He hated it sometimes. 

Freddie’s grip on his hand tightened. “Not everyone’s like Paul, love,” he said. “You can’t go around being suspicious of everyone you meet. It’s not healthy, and it’s exhausting to be on your guard all the time- trust me, I know. So yes, I’m upset, but I’ll be well and truly pissed if you don’t _ do _ something about it, understand? At least _ try _therapy again.” He frowned and poked Roger hard on the forehead. “And you’re not to go taking it out on me, either, Blondie.”

“Okay,” Roger said. His thumb ran over Freddie’s knuckles. “I’ll give it a go again.” It had helped when they lost Heydar. No harm in trying he supposed. 

He didn’t want to make Freddie cry again.

“One more thing,” Freddie said. Roger looked at him, and Freddie said, “You have to apologise to Joe too.”

_ “What?” _

“You acted like a dick,” Freddie said bluntly. “If you’re really sorry, apologise to him too. You were snarling and snapping and he made sure I got home anyway.”

“But-!”

_ “Rog.” _Freddie’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Roger slumped in defeat, avoiding his glare.

“Oh, for fuck’s..._ Fine. _Okay, yeah.” He didn’t really want to if he was honest; the concept made him bristle up like an angry cat (and admittedly, shrink in embarrassment). He didn’t really want to apologise to Joe...Even if a little part of him was grateful to the guy for getting Freddie home.

Well, maybe he could at least thank him for that. Nothing else though. Roger _ knew _ he wasn’t being paranoid when he said that Joe fancied Freddie. Fuck’s sake, he wasn’t _ blind, _Joe was clearly smitten on first sight.

He didn’t want to apologise to him, but he _ did _want Freddie to forgive him.

“Good,” Freddie said. He let Roger go to pull the plug from the bath. He stood up and hopped onto the mat, patting himself down with one of the towels. Finally, he offered Roger a small smile as he grabbed his dressing gown, slipping into it and tying it tight. There were still some suds in his hair, and the sight made Roger smile despite himself.

“We’re okay?” he checked again, as Freddie tugged him to his feet.

“We’re okay,” Freddie repeated. He tapped Roger on the nose. “But if you embarrass me like that again, I’ll kick your arse, darling.”

Honestly, Roger didn’t doubt that he would. He didn’t doubt that he _ could. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“And oh, it's hard now. With time, it works out. To be human is to love, even when it gets too much. I'm not ready to give up. To be human is to love, even when it gets too much. I'm not ready to give up.” -To Be Human, _ ** **Sia (ft. Labrinth) **

Brian and Deacy had the good sense to leave them be for the day. They left with some vague story about sightseeing before they had to finish packing, leaving Roger and Freddie in the hotel suite.

Roger had more to say. He knew he had more to say, but he wasn’t even sure where to begin. He’d explained why he’d snapped, he’d apologised, but...It wasn’t quite the full story.

“I’m sorry,” he said yet again. They’d ended up lying on their bed, on top of the covers. Freddie was still in his robe.

“I know,” Freddie said. He rolled over onto his side to face him. He was biting his lip. “I- darling, it was one fight. I’m not _ happy _about it obviously, but...It’s just one fight. We’re fine.”

“Yeah, but _ we _don’t fight,” Roger said. Freddie nodded, glancing away.

The thing was, Roger hated to seem weak. He hated it when people realised he was sad. Angry, he could deal with, but sad? It felt so much more vulnerable. But this was _ Freddie, _his boyfriend, his best friend, and he’d never laughed at Roger’s feelings before. If anything, he’d encouraged him to be honest, time and time again.

So Roger shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and said it: “I don’t deserve you.”

_ “What?” _

“I don’t,” Roger said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re- fuck, Fred, you’re a much better person than I could ever be. You know that, I know that, _ everyone _knows that.”

“That’s not true,” Freddie said fiercely. Roger cracked an eye open; Freddie looked seconds away from crying, but he also looked _ angry. _ Gritting his teeth, Freddie climbed on top of Roger, settling on his lap. “Roggie, that’s _ not true. _You’re brilliant.”

“Hardly,” Roger muttered. He sighed, one hand tracing idle patterns on Freddie’s hip. “Let’s be honest here: I’m pissy as hell. I’m always in fights. I’m possessive, I’m jealous, and I...I always seem to let people down.”

“You don’t let me down,” Freddie said.

“I did last night.”

“It was _ one fight. _ Rog, _ I love you, _ for fuck’s sake. I always will, nothing will change that. _ You’re not bad. _” Freddie cupped Roger’s face in his hands, forcing him to keep eye-contact, shaking him when Roger closed his eyes, until he opened them again. “You’re not bad,” Freddie repeated. “You never have been. For fuck’s sake, you have a temper, that doesn’t make you the devil incarnate. We’re all a big group of divas, or have your forgotten who you work with?”

“None of you guys hit people,” Roger said.

Freddie only raised an eyebrow. “Darling,” he said. “Even _ I’ve _hit people.”

“You hit creeps who grab your arse.”

“So do you! Roggie, _ please, _I love you. I love you just the way you are.” He shook his head, his black hair falling into his eyes. “You have me on such a pedestal sometimes,” he said softly. “I’m not perfect, love, no one is.”

_ You are, _he thought. 

Freddie looked impossibly sad, suddenly so much smaller. He kissed Roger’s forehead, the tip of his nose, both cheeks, his lips. 

“You’re brilliant,” he said firmly. “Got that? Right from the start, you made me feel safe. You were the _ first _ person to make me feel safe in England, you _ know _that. You’re my best friend first, you silly thing.”

He wanted to believe him. Maybe it was one more thing to work on.

But instead, Roger just sighed. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

One of Freddie’s hands rested on his chest. He still looked sad.

“I’ll prove it to you one day,” he promised. “I won’t have you saying such awful things about yourself, darling.”

Roger didn’t see how Freddie could change facts; because it was _ true, _ he had an explosive temper, he was possessive as hell, he was _ always _fucking up and getting in fights. How many times had he made his mum cry over the years? Far too many. His temper even scared himself sometimes.

As if reading Roger’s mind, Freddie leaned down to kiss him again.

“I love you,” he repeated.

“I love you too,” Roger said, because that much at least, was true. He always would.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**January 29th, The Music Hall, Boston** ** _  
_ ** ** _“Sire I have stolen, stolen many times. Raised my voice in anger when I know I never should. Liar! Oh, everybody deceives me. Liar! Ooh, why don't you leave me alone? Liar! I have sailed the seas. Liar! From Mars to Mercury.” -Liar, _ ** **Queen**

Freddie watched Roger as they went through set-up. He’d always known Roger had a pretty low opinion of himself; he could have kicked himself for just...forgetting. For assuming those insecurities wouldn’t come into play.

He couldn’t magically make it better, he couldn’t force Roger to change his mind about himself, but he _ could _help.

“Freddie?” Joe tapped him on the shoulder with a shy smile. “Hey. Just wanted to check how you were doing.”

“I’m fine, darling, thank you,” Freddie said. He knew his smile looked tired; God knew he felt tired. His eyes flicked to Roger, and Joe followed his gaze, frowning.

“Uh...You and Roger are okay?” he asked.

“Hm? We’re okay.”

“Right.” Joe was still frowning at Roger. He glanced at Freddie, nervously clicking his fingers. “He- he wasn’t pissed when you got back?”

“He cooled off,” Freddie smiled. “We both did.”

“Good,” Joe said. Roger glanced over, and Joe quickly looked away. “Well, if you need to chat…” He trailed off, giving Freddie another shy smile. One of the other caterers shouted at him and he hurried away, pulling a face at the woman’s back as he followed her.

Roger was frowning after him, but this time he looked thoughtful when he came over.

“Everything okay?” Roger asked.

“He was just checking in,” Freddie said. He wrapped his arms loosely around Roger’s neck, leaning into him. Roger’s hands settled on his back.

“Ugh, I really have to apologise, don’t I?” he groaned, but it was more theatrical, just something to make Freddie laugh.

“Yes,” Freddie said. “He’s just being nice, Roggie.” His smile turned more mischievous. “I’m yours,” he said. “Remember? I’ve got plans.”

“Oh?” Roger’s interest was clearly caught, but Freddie only smirked at him.

“Hm...Plans.” He slipped away, adding an extra sway to his hips as he went to check on Deacy. “You’ll see.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Liar _ always got a big reaction from the crowd, and tonight was no different. The cheers picked up as they began to play, but when it reached the _ “Mama, I’m gonna be your slave,” _ bit, they went _ insane. _

_ “I LOVE YOU!” _ Roger heard shrieked, again and again, from men and women both. As Freddie leaned back against Deacy for him to chime in with _ “All day long!” _the crowd joined in.

Freddie caught Roger’s eyes and winked, swaying his lips. He was evil. Fucking _ evil, _ and Roger quite wanted to rip that damn leotard off him there and then. Freddie had _ plans, _or so he said, and Roger was happy to go along with it. 

But first...Well, shit, he had to talk to Fanelli.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As soon as Roger was back into his regular clothes, he went looking for Fanelli. The staff had, as usual, hung around to watch the show. Most of them were still hanging around, talking about it; he heard some gushing about the set-list, some of them were talking about the effects or volume of the crowd. A few were complaining that their favourite songs hadn’t been played.

He found Fanelli with a few of the other caterers.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, hands in his pockets. The Beta frowned at him, but he followed Roger all the same.

They found a quiet corner, and Roger turned to him. “Look,” he said. “About Freddie…”

“You’re still pissed he talked to me?” Fanelli asked flatly, arms folded. “Didn’t realise it wasn’t allowed, sorry.”

Roger tried very hard to keep his temper. “No,” he said slowly. “I actually wanted to thank you for making sure he got home safe.”

That, he saw, threw Fanelli for a loop. “Oh,” he said. He blinked rapidly, his arms dropping to his side.

“Yeah,” Roger said. “And I’m sorry for- you know, being rude.”

Fanelli _ definitely _looked shocked now.

“So yeah,” Roger said uncomfortably. “Thanks for making sure he was okay.” He nodded and pushed off before Fanelli could say anything else. He’d done what Freddie asked, but he wasn’t about to make friends with the guy.

The boys were waiting for him by the back doors.

“There you are, darling,” Freddie said, immediately linking arms with him. For some godforsaken reason he was wearing one of his old long trench coats; it brushed his calves, buttoned and tied tightly. Deacy was holding the jacket Freddie had actually worn on the way to the venue, his new leather one.

Freddie saw the confusion on his face and smiled. As Brian and Deacy went on ahead, Freddie pulled his coat open. He was still wearing his stage outfit. _ Fuck. _

He made a strangled little noise, and Freddie’s smirk became downright evil.

“You seem to like this one, darling,” he said, his sweet tone a contrast to the look on his face, to the outfit, to his entire _ stance. _

Roger nodded rapidly. He wasn’t sure he could get a word out.

“I have a point to prove,” Freddie murmured, trailing his finger down Roger’s chest. “You’re mine too, darling. It goes both ways.” Still smirking, he led the way to the car, and Roger followed helplessly after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Roger has a praise kink, pass it on.)  
Next up, we'll be picking up where we left off with Freddie and Roger. I had a proper conversation planned for Joe and Freddie, but it just didn't fit, not until they're better friends at least, so that'll likely be up next too. Like I said, Joe's a bit suspicious of Roger right now.


	32. Say Amen (Saturday Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys sneak away from their team to explore New York. Freddie takes a test, but it isn't the result he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times at the start of the chapter; if you want to skip that, it ends when the lyrics for "Say Amen (Saturday Night)" begin. Other than that, it's just the boys having some fun- and admittedly, some angst.

** _“I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be just another ex-love you don't wanna see. I don't wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you) like the other girls do. I don't wanna hurt you, I just wanna be drinkin' on a beach, with you all over me. I know what they all say (I know what they all say). But I ain't tryna play.” -End Game, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

One thing Freddie had quickly realised about any Alphas he slept with was this: no matter how liberal or traditional they were, no matter how confident or shy they were, they all seemed to _ really _like it when Freddie talked about how great they were. Be it their stamina, size, their treatment of him, whatever...It always got a good reaction.

He wasn’t sure if it was necessarily an _ Alpha _thing, or if it was just the type of men he attracted. It wouldn’t surprise him either way.

Roger, it seemed, was no different. The difference was that this time Freddie _ meant _it. When he said Roger was the best he’d ever had, he wasn’t just stroking Roger’s ego to get what he wanted. The difference was that Roger wasn’t just some random guy that hit on him in the club; he wasn’t a stranger Freddie went home with. Freddie was in love with him, which was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

He’d only ridden Roger a handful of times before- Roger much seemed to prefer being on top- but now Roger let Freddie push him down onto the bed. When he tried to sit up again to tug Freddie’s jumpsuit off, Freddie pushed him back down. Roger protested half-heartedly, but his eyes were dark and intent as he watched Freddie peel the jumpsuit off himself.

“Alright, darling?” Freddie asked with a smirk.

Roger nodded mutely, eyes wide, but he wasn’t quiet for long. Freddie spared a half-thought for Deacy and Brian, who could no doubt hear Roger moaning his name as Freddie sucked him off- and the noise he made when Freddie sank down on him was downright _ obscene. _

And Freddie didn’t hold back. Like he said, Roger was his too- it went both ways. He rode him as fiercely as he could, grinning at Roger’s reactions. Normally so in control, at least in these situations, he was gasping under Freddie, moaning until his voice gave out, and there was no way Freddie was imagining it, he was definitely louder, more flushed, when Freddie gasped out praise.

Well, he’d have to file that information away for later, that was for damn sure.

Once, sentences like “You’re so big,” or “_ Fuck yes, _ you’re so good, darling,” sounded false on his tongue; it felt forced and cheesy, just things he’d once said to keep his partners happy and get what he wanted. It felt like the kind of crap you heard in those low-budget porno movies. Not now. Not when Roger was looking at him like that, not when it was actually _ true. _His thighs were burning with the effort, he felt breathless, he moaned Roger’s name until it sounded like gibberish, he kept the rough pace from sheer force of will at this point.

It was worth it. It was all so incredibly worth it to see Roger lose his precious composure; it was worth it to slow down until Roger was straining his hips, groaning and biting his lip. His hands were tight on Freddie’s hips, trying to make him move.

“Fuck’s _ sake, _Fred,” he moaned through gritted teeth. 

Freddie grinned at him, tossing his hair back. “What’s the magic word, darling?” he teased.

“You’re fucking _ kidding _ me.” Roger threw his head back, closing his eyes. Freddie slowly rolled his hips, silently counting down. _ Ten, nine, eight, seven… _

“Please,” Roger muttered.

“What was that, Roggie?”

_ “Please.” _

Well, Freddie wasn’t about to tell him no.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Afterwards, they were both completely out of breath.

“Fucking hell,” Roger mumbled, blinking dazedly. He grinned lazily_ “Fucking hell.” _

Freddie giggled tiredly, still lying on top of Roger. When Roger went to lift him, to pull out, Freddie clung to him.

“Not yet,” he said. Roger didn’t protest; if anything, his smile widened. His hand stroked up and down Freddie’s back, played lazily with his hair.

“You’re a little shit, you know that, right?” he asked. “Fucking minx.”

“I’ve got a reputation too,” Freddie laughed, pressing happily into his hand. “You believe me now, darling?”

“Yeah,” Roger said. He tugged Freddie up to kiss him; his smile was tired, almost shy. “Point proven, I’m yours too.”

Freddie wasn’t daft enough to think this solved everything; it wasn’t as if one round of sex was going to wash all of Roger’s insecurities away. This was going to take work.

But the smile on Roger’s face was all worth it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**February 3rd, New York City**

** _“I pray for the wicked on the weekend. Mama, can I get another amen? Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh. Oh, it's Saturday night. (Yeah!) Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent. Mama, can I get another amen? Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh. Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah!” -Say Amen (Saturday Night), _ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

New York City. They’d all been looking forward to this destination. John had his camera all ready to go, nearly vibrating with excitement. They didn’t have rehearsal until tomorrow, and certainly they were all tired from travelling, but the _ Queen _boys were determined to get out and see the city.

They may or may not have given their guards the slip.

It was a straight-forward plan. They told Crystal where they were going, and slipped out of the hotel before anyone could come looking for them.

The four of them marched down the street, as giddy as kids ditching school.

“Finally!” Freddie groaned, arms spread wide. “Some fucking alone time! No entourage!”

“You’ve done enough fucking, thank you,” Brian said, shooting Roger and Freddie a tired look. “I’m _ right next door, _you know.” Neither of them seemed at all sorry. Besides, as soon as Freddie squeezed Brian’s arm and smiled, Brian’s eyes softened.

“Where to first?” John asked.

“Statue of Liberty, or Empire State Building?” Roger suggested. They stopped to read their map, humming and muttering to themselves as they decided on where to go. In the end, after arguing more for the sake of it than anything, they decided on the Statue of Liberty.

Honestly, it did feel like they were skipping school. It _ did _feel like breaking the rules. They were in for a right nagging when they eventually went back to the hotel, and they all knew it.

John couldn’t bring himself to care. It was nice to simply slip away with his friends, to dodge in and out of the crowds, pointing out any interesting sights to each other. At one point the crowd got so thick that they all linked arms, laughing as they pushed through, running across the road before the light could turn red.

Part of him couldn’t quite believe it. They were in New York, they’d just ditched their entire team. No wonder Freddie kept giggling.

And the Statue of Liberty _ was _beautiful. John rushed around, taking a hundred pictures. Freddie was just as bad; he climbed up on the wall to get the best picture he could, laughing when Brian panicked and scooped him back down.

“You’ll fall!” Brian protested. Freddie reached up to poke his nose, still giggling.

“I’m perfectly safe, lovie,” he said. 

“Yeah, with you and Rog here we’re as safe as can be,” John added. He was mostly joking, but a part of him meant it- and besides, the way the two Alphas lit up, all but preening, made him grin. Freddie caught his gaze and rolled his eyes fondly. 

After the Statue, they found a hotdog stand for lunch. Poor Roger ended up with ketchup smeared all over his face. Brian kept picking off parts of the bun to feed the pigeons. John sat on a wall, trying to eat and hold the map steady to read it at the same time. Freddie peered over his shoulder, swinging his legs and licking mustard off his fingers.

“How far are we from Central Park?” he asked. “They have a zoo, don’t they?”

“Quite far,” John said, amused.

“And we’re seeing the Empire State Building first,” Brian reminded Freddie. 

“Do you think we’ll have time for the zoo though?” Freddie asked earnestly. Roger grinned at him, brushing his hair back.

“You’re a big kid,” he said. “Anyone have the time?”

“One o’clock,” Brian said.

They all looked at each other, considering. Slowly, they all started to grin.

“Maybe we can squeeze it in,” John said. He finished the last of his hotdog, folding the map up. “If we’re quick.”

Some tabloids liked to say it was as if _ Queen _was telepathic: that they always seemed to know what the others were thinking. Now was one of those times. Without a word, beaming and laughing, they all linked arms and ran in search of the nearest subway station.

  
  
  
  
  
  


John was right. When they eventually went back to the hotel, at half-nine at night, they got a right bollocking. Reid was far from impressed, their guards were horrified. Words like _ responsibility _ and _ respect _were thrown around a lot.

Freddie stood with his hands behind his back, eyes lowered to the floor, head slightly bowed. He would have looked like a chastened schoolboy if it wasn’t for the smirk on his face. Roger was smiling unapologetically, Brian at least made an attempt to apologise and explain, albeit half-hearted. John stayed quiet, trying not to laugh. At least Crystal and Ratty got a laugh out of it; the pair of them were shrieking like hyenas, leaning on each other to stay upright.

John and Ratty locked eyes. John grinned at him, and Ratty laughed all the harder. Finally, when Reid proclaimed he was “done with the whole fucking lot of you!” and stormed off, the _ Queen _boys let rip and laughed.

“We’re going to give him a heart attack one day,” Freddie giggled, bent over double.

“He forgets to have fun,” Roger said, hands on his hips. “Let’s all pray we never end up so boring.”

“Can’t be that boring if he’s with Elton,” Crystal pointed out, which was _ still _a weird thought if you asked John.

But still, they’d had their fun. Now they just had to make sure they got enough sleep for rehearsal tomorrow morning. Still giggling together, they went their separate ways for bed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Can you see the panic inside? I'm making you uneasy, aren't I? What goes on behind the words? Is there pity for the plain girl? I'll close my mouth, I won't say a word. A nod of pity for the plain girl.” -6/10, _ ** **Dodie Clark**

Freddie waited impatiently as first Brian, then Roger, insisted on showering before bed. They took _ forever, _ and that was coming from _ him. _He’d slipped the pregnancy tests into the pockets of his tracksuit bottoms, and he tried to sit still as he and Deacy flicked through the TV channels.

Finally, Roger emerged in his towel, hair still dripping.

“Well, _ finally, _” Freddie huffed. He dodged Roger’s hand with a grin when he went to pat his hip and shut the door behind him.

He’d bought two tests, just to be careful. He’d missed a heat, he was feeling nauseous, so...so _ maybe. _Please.

He finally let himself pace anxiously, tugging on his hair, clicking his fingers and bouncing on the spot sometimes. Time suddenly seemed to drag, seconds lasted hours...But finally, it was time to look at the results.

_ Please, please, please, please. _

His heart dropped when he looked. Negative. Both of them.

Immediately, his eyes filled with tears. Sniffling, suddenly feeling very defeated and small, he slid down the wall to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

Fuck. _ Fuck. _This was the fourth time with negative results, and he didn’t have the heart to tell Roger again. He hadn’t even told Roger he’d bought the tests this time. He hadn’t wanted to get his boyfriend’s hopes up.

Damn it all, he’d just- he’d _ hoped, _ he’d been starting to feel confident that he was pregnant this time...But no. No, it was just a missed heat, like fucking usual. The nausea could be put down to exhaustion and stress. Fucking _ typical, _so fucking typical, why had he gotten his hopes up?

Trying not to sob, he reached up to grope blindly for the tests on the counter; when he found them, he flung them across the room. One bounced off the wall and skidded across the floor, the other landed in the bath; residue water from the shower-head dripped onto it, and Freddie closed his eyes again.

Then there was a quiet knock on the door.

“Freddie?” Deacy called. “You okay in there?”

_ No, _Freddie thought. He couldn’t get his voice to work; when he tried, only a choked sob came out.

For a moment, Deacy was quiet. Then he said, “I’m coming in, okay?” and before Freddie could tell him not to, before he could- oh, barricade the damn door, lock it, _ something _\- Deacy came in.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the pregnancy test on the floor. He saw the results, his face crumpled, and he closed the door behind him.

“Oh, Fred, I’m sorry,” he sighed, kneeling in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Freddie shook his head, and Deacy hugged him tightly. He was kind enough to not say anything when Freddie started crying. He just held onto him until he stopped.

Finally, he asked “Have you told Rog?”

“No,” Freddie mumbled. “I-I didn’t want to disappoint him again.”

“As if _ you _could ever disappoint him,” Deacy said. He pulled back, and when he saw the look on Freddie’s face he sighed again. “Okay,” he said gently. “Right then.” He stood up, and to Freddie’s confusion he picked up the pregnancy test. He spotted the one in the bath and grabbed that too- and then he threw them in the bin. He threw a pile of loo roll on top, and some of Freddie’s make-up wipes to hide them. He looked at Freddie and smiled sympathetically.

“Thanks, Deacy darling,” Freddie said hoarsely. “I just- I can’t tell him yet.”

“That’s fine,” Deacy said. “Honestly, Fred, it’s okay.” He helped Freddie to his feet and hugged him again, stroking his back.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. It would have to be, Freddie supposed. Time wouldn’t pause, rehearsal wouldn’t be cancelled tomorrow, just because of this. He’d have to deal with it.

It was still exhausting. It was still a punch to the gut, still a huge disappointment.

“I know,” Freddie sighed, because what else could he really say? “Thanks, love.”

It didn’t stop him from clinging to Roger when he got into bed. It was the usual, so thankfully Roger didn’t question it.

_ You’ll feel better tomorrow, _ Freddie told himself. _ You’ll be fine with some sleep. _

He could almost believe himself. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Freddie. They'll get there eventually, I promise 💕


	33. Six Degrees Of Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Joe have an unpleasant chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* Ya girl is single, because evidently I was dating Ross Geller this whole time. His break up text (yes, text) basically boiled down to "How dare you have a life outside of me?"  
Ya'll, I dodged a bullet.

**February 6th, New York** **  
** ** _“Champagne, cocaine, gasoline, and most things in between. I roam the city in a shopping cart, a pack of camels and a smoke alarm.This night is heating up. Raise hell and turn it up. Saying ‘If you go out you might pass out in a drain pipe.’ Oh yeah, don't threaten me with a good time!” -Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time, _ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

Freddie’s heat may have started, but damn if he’d let that stop him. Those in charge had made some noise about him _ not being able to perform like this. _ They kept blathering on about being _ inappropriate. _

“You’re in a delicate condition,” one of the tour managers said.

“I’m not pregnant, love,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. _ Delicate condition! _Fuck’s sake, he was just in heat, and as far as his heats went, this one wasn’t too bad; his head was sore, he was thirsty, and he admittedly felt bereft whenever Roger let go of him, but he wasn’t ill, or in any real pain. He could easily perform like this.

“It’s inappropriate,” another manager said. 

Reid scoffed. “That won’t stop him.” He handed Freddie a bottle of water, somewhere between exasperated and amused. “You’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Freddie insisted. Reid shrugged, looking at the others.

“Well, you heard the lad.”

The first one turned to Roger. “You can’t possibly let him on stage like this!”

“Do I look like his handler?” Roger asked flatly, his arm around Freddie’s shoulders. “Leave him alone.” He was looking increasingly impatient with the conversation. Deacy looked seconds away from throttling someone. Brian was openly snarling.

“You’re his _ Alpha! _”

“Oh for _ fuck’s sake, _ ” Freddie snapped. “I’m not a child! Heats aren’t contagious, get over yourselves! I’m performing, now _ get out of my way. _”

“You can’t talk to us like that, Omega,” the second manager said primly. Haughty bastard.

“Want to bet?” Freddie snarled. “Stop blocking the door before you make us late.”

They looked to Reid for support again, but he only folded his arms. “You’d have better luck fighting an avalanche,” he said. “But yes, do get out of the way, we have a schedule.” 

The first manager shook his head, scowing. The second looked perfectly scandalised, if not disgusted.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” he said, nose in the air.

“Yes, yes, we’re such bad influences,” Freddie said, pushing past them. Laughing, Roger caught up with him to wrap an arm around his waist. Brian ‘accidentally’ elbowed them both, and Deacy threw them a smirk over his shoulder.

“You’re sure you’re good?” Roger asked.

“I’m fine,” Freddie said firmly. He adjusted the shoulder-strap of his leotard. “Besides, there’s plenty of water available.” That was his only real concern if he was honest; maybe he’d ask Ratty to fetch more water to leave by the piano just in case. He wasn’t about to risk dehydration. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


There was no point in pretending otherwise: Joe was utterly blown away. The show was spectacular, the band only seemed to keep getting better. The crowd was under their spell, shrieking at the sight of them, singing along at the tops of their lungs. And, to be honest, he was impressed that Freddie managed all this in heat. He didn’t know any other Omegas that would have gone on stage like that. Sure, it wasn’t the first time Freddie had done this, but that didn’t stop Joe from being surprised.

Freddie looked a little flushed, he drank more water than usual, but his voice was as beautiful as ever.

So maybe Joe thought he was gorgeous. Sue him, he certainly wasn’t the only one. He just wasn’t stupid enough to try anything; he liked his head on his shoulders, thanks. Roger would kill him.

Speaking of Roger…

The Alpha was watching Freddie with a smirk, grinning whenever Freddie looked his way. Joe had to admit, he was still pretty wary of Roger. He had an obvious jealous streak a mile wide, he was possessive, the whole world knew that. His glare was fucking _ scary, _and his reputation preceded him: he knew those fists could pack a punch, and had done plenty of times before.

And what idiot left an Omega alone at night in a strange city? Who stormed off because their boyfriend talked to someone else?

It still made him worry that Roger had been so pissed that Freddie spoke to him. He kept telling himself not to jump to conclusions- they sure _ seemed _ happy- but...Still...After Freddie ended up crying on his shoulder, he worried. Afterall, they’d still been strangers, and Freddie had ended up crying anyway, and apologising to him, as if _ Freddie _had done something wrong.

They’d gotten closer. Roger didn’t outright glare or snarl anymore, but he did keep frowning at Joe whenever their paths crossed.

Maybe he was reading too much into it- but what if he _ wasn’t? _He knew far too many Omegas whose Alphas acted like that, and a lot of those Omegas had ended up in hospital, or running away with their kids, with only a small suitcase and no money.

And honestly, maybe he would have let it go; maybe he would have convinced himself he was being stupid, if he didn’t see what happened after the show.

The _ Queen _boys were all clearly exhilarated, laughing together and rambling about improvements they could make (they really were perfectionists, huh?) as their assistants hurried to give them water and help them into warm robes. 

One of them, a tall, thin Alpha gave Freddie a sharp slap on the ass as he helped Freddie into his robe. Freddie jerked back, red in the face and openly snarling himself- but Roger went ballistic. 

He immediately pounced, punching the other Alpha clean in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding, and pinned him to the wall, growling. “Lay a hand on him again,” he hissed. “And I’ll break your fucking arm.” He could honestly say he’d never seen someone so mad before: Roger’s eyes were wild, his snarl was enough to have Joe flinching back.

Even then, he could have brushed that off; it was legal, it was _ encouraged, _ and that guy _ had _just slapped Freddie, a taken Omega in heat- you had to be truly stupid (or arrogant) to expect no consequences.

No, it was the way Roger snarled at _ Brian _when he wrapped an arm around Freddie, it was the way Roger pushed Freddie away when Freddie tried to pull him off the guy that made his stomach clench.

“Darling,” Freddie said cautiously. “I’m okay, see?”

Roger glanced at him; he looked at the pinned Alpha, who was starting to snivel.

“Rog,” John said warningly. “Come on, he’s not worth it.”

It wasn’t until Brian tugged him off the guy that Roger backed down. He and Brian were locked in a stare-down, but Roger looked away first. He went to Freddie instead, holding him tight, glaring at everyone.

Christ, maybe he had to talk to Freddie after all. But how the hell did you even start that kind of conversation? Was it even his place?

Did that even matter anymore? Surely _ someone _should say something?

(If Joe hadn’t been so taken-aback, if he hadn’t been so worried, maybe he would have noticed that Freddie leaned into Roger, nuzzling at his neck. Maybe he would have seen that Freddie wasn’t frightened, but he didn’t, not yet.)

  
  
  
  
  


**  
** ** _“First, you think the worst is a broken heart; what's gonna kill you is the second part. And the third is when your world splits down the middle. And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself. Fifth, you see them out with someone else. And the sixth, is when you admit you may have fucked up a little.” -Six Degrees of Separation, _ ** **The Script**

The party was hectic; it had been in full-swing by the time _ Queen _arrived. Honestly, Freddie wanted to go back to the hotel; he wanted to curl up in bed, rest, and maybe have a cuddle pile if the boys were up for it. If not, he’d still gladly cling to Roger.

But they had to at least show their faces, this was _ their _party, but that guy slapping him had rather wrecked his good mood, and the heat symptoms were really starting to drive him nuts now. Now that the performance was done, now that the adrenaline was worn off, he wanted to rest. With Roger still bristling and growling under his breath, he knew some quiet time would be a good idea.

“We’ll stick around for an hour,” Brian said. “Then head back.” He smiled around at them all, and as if he’d read Freddie’s mind, he added, “Cuddle pile?”

“Sounds perfect,” Freddie said, leaning against Roger.

“I reckon we need one,” Deacy added, sipping his beer. Roger nodded, still holding onto Freddie. 

Freddie caught Joe’s eyes across the room: the Beta smiled, somewhat warily. To Freddie, he looked concerned, and he appreciated it if he was honest. God knew he was sick of strangers slapping him and groping him, just because they thought they could, because they wanted to. Because they seemed to think _he _wanted them to.

Yeah, _ definitely _not in the party mood.

It wasn’t until he went to the bathroom that he found out what Joe looked so wary for.

Joe came in just as Freddie finished drying his hands.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

“Exhausted,” Freddie said honestly. Joe nodded. He gulped. He looked warily at the door.

“Uh- Roger’s pretty pissed, huh?”

Freddie shrugged. “Suppose so, darling. You know how it is.” Bless Roggie, but he really was taking Freddie’s words to heart; Freddie knew all too well that Roger could have done a lot worse that give the guy a scare and a nosebleed. He was trying.

“Does he do that a lot?”

“Only when people do _ that, _” Freddie said. He huffed, rolling his eyes. “So quite often, dear.” After all, it was true.

He didn’t understand why Joe’s eyes widened. He didn’t understand why he suddenly looked so pale.

“Fred, I- God, I just…”

“Joe, darling?”

“Has he ever done that to you?” Joe blurted out, and Freddie jerked back in surprise.

“What, grope me?” he asked. He laughed, he couldn’t help it. It seemed like such a stupid, obvious question with an obvious answer. “What are you-?”

“No, I mean he’s- has he ever…” Joe was clearly struggling with himself. “Look, I promise I won’t freak out, but...Has he ever hit you?”

_ What? _

Freddie saw red.

“I beg your pardon?” he hissed. His fists were clenched, he just- he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he _ couldn't. _ “How dare you, he’d _ never! _ ” It was _ Roggie. _ It was Roger who had promised to protect Freddie no matter what; Roger who had _ come _ from an abusive family, who constantly worried about being like Michael. It was Roggie, _ his _ Roggie, who always worried about Freddie, who made him feel _ safe. _

“He’d never,” Freddie repeated firmly. He got right in Joe’s face, until Joe backed against the wall. “He’d never even _ think _ of it, how _ dare _you say that about him!”

“I was just worried!” Joe protested. “I’m sorry, I- it looked bad, Freddie.”

But Freddie didn’t want to hear it. He utterly refused to hear it.

“You have no idea,” he said. “You have no _ fucking idea _ what we’ve been through, what _ he’s _ been through, you-” He cut himself off, grinding his teeth. “You stay out of my business,” he hissed. “You stay _ away _from me, understand?”

He pushed past before Joe could answer, slamming the door behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He went straight into Roger’s arms, clinging to him.

“I want to go,” Freddie said, hiding his face against Roger’s neck. “Now.”

“Are you okay?” Roger asked, stroking Freddie’s hair. “Do you feel sick?”

He nodded. It was true, he did feel sick.

How the hell could anyone possibly think that Roger would hit him? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, he genuinely couldn’t comprehend it. How could anyone ever think that Roger was hurting him?

The four of them left together. Roger kept an arm around Freddie’s waist; Brian hovered protectively, Deacy had nabbed a spare bottle of water on the way out. Freddie let them fuss, for once quietly taking it.

They all ended up in Roger and Freddie’s room, in their cosiest pyjamas. Freddie clung to Roger, squished in between him and Brian. Deacy spooned Roger, reaching out to play with Freddie’s hair.

“You haven’t got a temperature,” Brian said, feeling his forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” Freddie said. “Sick.” Both true. He just held onto Roger, still sick, still furious.

Roger could make all the vows of protection he wanted, but it went both ways. Freddie could protect him too. He wouldn’t let _ anyone _talk badly about him.

_ I can protect you too, _he thought, burying his face in Roger’s chest. As Deacy continued to play with his hair, he purred before he could stop himself, relaxing despite himself.

_ I can protect you too, I promise. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Joe meant well, but he had the totally wrong end of the stick.


	34. The Archer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heats aren't all fun and games, and performing on one isn't always a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, some drama, what a surprise 😂

** _“All my life, I’ve been so lonely, all in the name of being holy. Still, you'd like to think you know me. You keep buyin' stars And you could buy up all of the stars, but it wouldn't change who you are. You're still living life in the dark. It's just who you are. It’s just who you are.” -Buy The Stars, _ ** **Marina And The Diamonds**

The next day, Freddie’s head was pounding. He lay curled up in bed, drinking glass after glass of water, trying to sleep it off. Stupid heats. One of the managers, a surprisingly scruffy looking guy named Brandon, told Roger “I can go get him some suppressants. That’ll stop it.” He kept his voice down, but with the bedroom door open a crack, Freddie heard him.

For a moment, Roger was quiet. “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t make him take them.”

“You’re his Alpha,” Brandon said patiently, as if explaining to a child. “If you sign the permission form, he’ll have to listen. He'll have to take them if you say so. Besides, it's in everyone's best interests.”

“Get out,” Roger snapped. “Now.”

Brandon huffed impatiently, but he left. Roger came back into the bedroom and spooned Freddie, kissing the top of his head.

“You feeling any better, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” Freddie lied. Damn it, he wouldn’t cancel the show tonight and he would _ not _take any stupid suppressants, thank you very much. He could handle this. He always got headaches during heat, this would wear off. It had to.

Thankfully, Roger didn’t contradict him. He just said “Try and get some sleep, Fred, okay?”

Easier said than done, but with Roger’s arms around him, with the blessed quiet, Freddie eventually drifted off.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“‘Cause you used to call me pretty ‘til you took out the R. Said ‘Girl, you couldn't be more petty than you already are.’ Are you mad cause I wrote songs about you breaking my heart? ‘Cause, boy, you used to call me pretty ‘til you took out the R.” -Petty, _ ** **Emma Blackery**

Thankfully, when he woke up in the late afternoon, he _ did _ feel better. His head still hurt, he still felt all _ swimmy _for lack of a better term, but the room wasn’t spinning anymore. Every small noise didn’t grate on his nerves.

“Fancy some lunch?” Roger asked, idly twisting a strand of Freddie’s hair around his fingers. He looked incredibly relieved when Freddie said yes.

Honestly, Brian and Deacy didn’t look much better. They both eyed Freddie warily as he ate slowly, mostly just stirring the food around the plate.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Brian asked. “Freddie, if you need to rest-”

“I’m not cancelling,” Freddie said briskly. “No way, no how. It’s just a _ heat, _there’s no reason to fuss.” He was lying and they all knew it. There was plenty of reasons to fuss about Freddie’s heats. The last time they were here, he’d ended up in hospital during one.

Not this time. He’d be fine, he was sure of it.

But he still felt sick, and not just because of his heat. He didn’t want to see Joe. He didn’t want to talk to him.

_ No one talks about Roggie like that, _he thought, still fuming. 

_ He was just worried, _ a tiny part of him whispered. No. No, screw that. He didn’t care what Joe’s motives were; _ no one _ was allowed to talk about Roger like that, let alone someone who didn’t even _ know _him.

Joe would just have to stay the hell away from him from now on. And from Roger. He’d better leave Roger alone too.

After all, Freddie was the one who took boxing lessons. He knew how to throw a punch too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“All the king's horses, all the king's men couldn't put me together again, ‘cause all of my enemies started out friends. Help me hold onto you. I've been the archer, I've been the prey. Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?” -The Archer, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Roger kept a keen eye on Freddie. His boyfriend was too pale, he looked a little dazed. He was clearly unwell, the scent of his heat rolled off him in waves, and Roger just wanted to bring him back to the hotel.

But Freddie, stubborn as always, kept his head high, glaring around at anyone who dared to suggest he should go back to bed.

“You’d better tell me if you feel any worse,” Roger said when they got to the changing room. “I mean it, Fred. A show’s not worth your health.”

“I’m _ fine, _darling,” Freddie insisted. With the light touch of make-up he didn’t look so pale, but Roger knew him too well to be fooled.

And as they made their way to the stage, they went past the staff. Some of them were still lingering in the hallways, some of them had already gone ahead to the wings to watch the show.

In the hallway, smoking a cigarette and looking anxious, was Fanelli.

He took one look at them and gulped. “Alright, Freddie?” he asked. 

To Roger’s confusion, Freddie swept straight past with his nose in the air. He even glared at Fanelli over his shoulder with an impatient little huff.

_ Alright then, _ he thought. But seeing Freddie so _ genuinely pissed _was weird. Huffy? Sure. Sulking? Quite often. But giving the cold shoulder and sweeping past like Fanelli was a stranger? That was odd. “Everything okay?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist.

“Hm? Fine, darling.”

Yeah, because he was dumb enough to believe _ that. _

“Are you arguing?” Deacy asked.

“Not at all,” Freddie said. “We’re not speaking anymore.”

“Why?” Roger asked.

“Does it matter?” Freddie returned. “You hate him, Roggie.”

Well, _ yeah, _ he had at first (and he still didn’t _ like _the guy), but if anything had happened to upset Freddie he wanted to know. 

He didn’t have time to pester Freddie about it though, because they were right in the wings, seconds away from the start of the show.

He’d have to find out later.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie wondered if it was obvious how sick he felt. God, he hoped not. As the show carried on, he just felt worse. The brief respite he’d had that afternoon was long gone. His stomach was churning, he felt thirsty no matter how much water he drank; the lights were too bright, the noises were too loud, and he felt unsteady on his feet.

He kept dancing about though, grinning and cracking jokes at the audience. At least his voice didn’t give anything away, he was pleased to note. He sounded the same as always, loud and clear and steady.

He didn’t _ feel _it though.

Roger was watching him in concern, Brian and Deacy kept throwing him covert glances. During _ Liar _it felt like Deacy was holding him up more than anything. Whenever he ended up next to Brian, their guitarist let Freddie lean on him, easily masking it as their usual display.

_ You okay? _Brian mouthed.

Freddie gave a tiny shake of his head, because no, no he didn’t feel okay. He was starting to feel lightheaded, his stomach was rolling and he was utterly terrified of throwing up on stage.

_ God, how embarrassing, _ he thought- though thank God, he _ didn’t. _But it was dangerously close.

The end of the show couldn’t come soon enough.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When they took their bows, Roger held onto Freddie. He was starting to shake, pale and clammy, his make-up running.

“Rog, I don’t feel right,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Roger said gently. The second the lights went down, he ushered Freddie off the stage, practically holding his boyfriend upright. “Straight back to the hotel, I think,” he said.

Freddie didn’t answer. His eyes had gone glassy.

“Fred?” The alarm in his voice drew the concerned gazes of the staff. Fanelli took a wary step forward.

“Is he-?”

And then Freddie collapsed entirely.

_ “FREDDIE!” _The scream came from him, from Deacy and Brian, from Fanelli, from Reid, even a few of the stagehands and techs. Everyone rushed forward and Roger, still holding Freddie, caught him before he could hit the ground. His eyes were open, but unfocussed. He gulped, bent over double like he was trying not to throw up.

“Fred? Sweetheart? Hey, can you hear me? Freddie!”

“‘M fine,” Freddie mumbled.

“Obviously _ not! _” Fanelli squawked. He held a bottle of water to Freddie’s lips, clearly shaken. Deacy was clinging to Freddie’s arm, pale and terribly still. Brian was just barely managing to keep everyone else back.

“Fuck’s sake, someone call an ambulance!” Roger demanded.

“No...Hospitals…” Freddie mumbled. He sipped at the water, shaking like a leaf.

“Don’t be so daft,” Deacy said hoarsely. Freddie looked at him and his face immediately creased in concern, as if Deacy was the one half-conscious on the floor. He sighed and nodded, leaning against Roger.

“Okay.”

Roger just held him close, kissing his temple. “You’re alright,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “They’ll just give you a tablet or two and you’ll be right as rain, yeah?” He _ hoped _so. They’d been in and out of the hospital last time, and Freddie had been worse then. Surely they could help this time?

Fanelli was pale as a sheet. He held Freddie’s hand steady while he drank. Brian was still barking at the others to give Freddie some air.

“I’m sorry,” Fanelli said. “Freddie, I’m so sorry.”

Freddie blinked at him. He didn’t say anything. He just turned and buried his face in Roger’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 😅  
Next up, Roger and Freddie talk it all out, and Roger finds out what Joe said...


	35. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out, and Roger's old fears come crashing forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe Roger a break too. There'll be happiness after America, I promise.

** _“What if I'm far from home? Oh, brother, I will hear you call! What if I lose it all? Oh, sister, I will help you out! Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do.” -Hey Brother, _ ** **Avicii**

Roger paced anxiously, utterly ignoring Brian’s soft entreaties to sit down.

“Panicking won’t help,” Brian said, but Roger barely even seemed to hear him. Brian shared a concerned look with Deacy, but what could they really do? Nothing. God, it was just like last time: Freddie, semi-conscious, clearly in horrible pain. He’d been worse last time, and Brian clung to that, horrible as it was. It wasn’t _ quite _so bad. He’d been sorted out pretty quickly last time, surely they’d help him even faster now?

All the same, time dragged. Reid made impatient phone calls, clearly not happy about having to cancel tomorrow’s show and reschedule it. God knew what this would do to his stupid schedule, and the tour as a whole. Well really, what did he expect? That they’d just let Freddie perform tomorrow? Not a hope in hell. Even if he seemed fine, Brian would be making sure Freddie stayed in bed, thank you very much. 

Then there was the press. Brian hoped they wouldn’t hear about this. None of them wanted to deal with nosy questions, or their typical _ “weak Omega” _bullshit. No doubt they’d take it as an excuse to once more say Omegas shouldn’t be performers. 

Finally, a doctor approached them, a tall Alpha with a thin moustache.

“Roger Taylor?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Roger said, instantly back on high-alert. He was tense as hell, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Your Omega’s fine,” the doctor said. “Some painkillers ought to help manage his stomach, I doubt he’ll need anything too strong. The main concern is dehydration. We’ve given him some fluids, but of course you’ll need to make sure he keeps drinking plenty of water.”

“What about his head?” Roger demanded. “That looked like another migraine to me.”

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “It’s just a heat. Remember: painkillers and fluids. He’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” He gave a small nod and said, “You can go see him now.”

Brian could have screamed in frustration. _ Just a heat! _Fuck’s sake, this was the second time this had happened, Freddie was always prone to headaches on his heat, and they developed into full on migraines with worrying frequency. Surely that wasn’t normal? Surely the doctor ought to be more concerned?

“This isn’t normal,” Brian said.

“It’s a heat,” the doctor repeated. “He’ll be fine as soon as it’s done.”

With an impatient huff, Roger pushed past the doctor to storm down the hall to Freddie’s room.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Freddie,” Roger breathed as soon as he stepped into the room. Freddie could see the tension drain from him; he rushed across the room to gather Freddie into his arms, burying his face in Freddie’s neck and breathing deeply. “Oh, thank Christ,” he said. “You frightened me to death, you asshole.”

“Sorry, darling,” Freddie said, wincing at how raspy his voice sounded. Brian and Deacy came hurrying in, both of them equally pale and frazzled.

“Don’t _ do _that to me!” Deacy cried. He clung to Freddie’s side, pressing as close as he could. “God, I thought you’d proper fainted, Freddie.”

“Deacs, give him air,” Brian fussed, trying in vain to tug the Beta away. Besides, he couldn’t really judge. He hovered, running a hand through Freddie’s hair, only minutely relaxing when Freddie smiled at him. 

“Okay, Fred?” he checked.

“Horribly embarrassed,” Freddie said. “Did _ everyone _see?”

“No, of course not,” Brian said soothingly, still stroking at Freddie’s hair. Freddie was certain he was lying, but he appreciated it.

And honestly, fuck hospital beds, they were so uncomfortable. He thought longingly of the huge bed in the hotel room. God, he just wanted to sleep, and his instincts were screaming at him, so he mumbled “Cuddle pile tonight, darlings?”

“You’re sure you’re up for it?” Roger asked. Freddie nodded. His boys all exchanged quick glances, and some primal part of him shrank back from the idea of being alone. 

But they all smiled at him, and nodded.

“Okay,” Roger said gently. “Sounds good to me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“It's so excruciating to see you low; just wanna lift you up, and not let you go. This ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight, oh. I lived like an island, punished you with silence, went off like sirens, just crying.” -Afterglow, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

The cuddle pile was definitely needed. Freddie almost instantly relaxed, nuzzling at Roger’s neck, breathing his scent in. Deacy spooned him, his hands on Freddie’s stomach: Freddie linked their hands together, and Deacy hummed happily. Brian spooned Roger, reaching out to run a soothing hand up and down Freddie’s arm.

“You okay, love?” Roger asked. Freddie nodded with a tired hum, his nose still pressed against Roger’s neck.

“Tell us if need anything,” Brian said for the millionth time. A small, kittenish snore was his only answer. Freddie was fast asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next day, quite early, there was a timid knock on the door. Roger didn’t even notice it at first, not until it became more insistent. 

If it was Reid, he’d just start banging straight away. All the same, Roger bit back a curse, because if this woke Freddie up, Roger would be knocking some heads together. Deacy let out a tired groan, still pressed against Freddie’s back. He didn’t even open his eyes, or attempt to move. Brian stayed snoring.

Muttering angrily under his breath, Roger stumbled from the bedroom to the door.

He was pretty fucking surprised to find Joe Fanelli waiting in the hallway. He was drained, worried and still pretty pissed at the lack of real care Freddie received, so he was instantly scowling.

“What?” he asked, surly, arms crossed.

“Sorry,” Fanelli said. He shifted awkwardly, biting his lip. “Is- is Freddie alright?”

“As much as he can be,” Roger said. He eyed Fanelli up and down. He remembered Freddie sweeping past Fanelli, he remembered Freddie saying they weren’t speaking anymore. “What did you do?” he demanded. “You pissed Freddie off somehow, so out with it- what did you do?”

Fanelli went pale as a sheet. “I...Uh...Upset him.”

_ “Obviously.” _

It was very telling that Fanelli took a step back. He _ must _have fucked up. 

And it all came out.

“I asked him if you hit him.”

It was the worst sort of blow.

_ You’re like Michael. _

“I wouldn’t,” Roger said hoarsely. His throat felt too tight. “I would _ never _lay a hand on him!”

“I know,” Fanelli said quickly. “I mean- I know that _ now. _ I just...Fuck, Roger, I’m sorry, I was just _ worried _about him.”

“But you’ve no _ reason _ to be!” His voice was raising and he fought to keep it down, not wanting to involve the whole hallway. He felt sick. He was shaking all over, he couldn’t breathe. “I wouldn’t _ ever _ hurt him, I’m trying to _ protect _ him!” A thought hit him, and his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t worried,” he hissed viciously. “You just want him. What, you think you can spread shit and we’ll break up, is that it? You can swoop in and _cheer him up,_ eh?”

“No!” Fanelli’s eyes widened. “God, Roger, that’s not it, I-”

“You’re full of shit.” Roger’s fists clenched. He imagined punching Fanelli straight on the nose. He imagined knocking the fucker’s teeth down his throat. “You’re so fucking full of shit, Fanelli. One fight and suddenly I’m beating him around the place!?”

“I didn’t-”

“_ You _ of all people aren’t taking him from me,” Roger growled. He jabbed Fanelli in the chest. On second thoughts, he gave in and shoved Fanelli back. “We came out on top against Foster, we overcame Sheffield, we walked out of EMI in one piece, I have _ no _problems with putting a nosy bastard like you in your place.”

“I was just worried about him,” Fanelli repeated, quite desperately. “Roger, I’m sorry, honestly I am. I was wrong.”

“Fucking _ obviously! _” He turned away, stepping back to the door. “Stay away from us,” he demanded. “Stay away from Freddie. Or I swear to God, Fanelli, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

He slammed the door in Fanelli’s face.

He knew he should have just climbed back into bed. Slamming the door woke the others up, but he could have fed them a line about Reid or one of the others nagging about schedules or some shit.

Instead, he met Freddie’s bleary eyes and said, “Were you going to _ tell _me that Fanelli thinks I’m some abusive bastard?”

“He thinks _ what? _” Brian asked, aghast. Deacy sat up, hair tangled, gaping.

Freddie looked very small and very tired, still too pale. 

“I was going to tell you after the show,” he said weakly. “But then…” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, _ you _know.”

Right. Freddie had collapsed in his arms. Roger tried to focus on that, struggling to keep his cool against the rage and terror growing inside him.

_ You’re like Michael, people think you’re like Michael, you’re just like him after all. _

Freddie looked at him, ashen and upset. As if he could read Roger’s mind, he softly said “You’re not your father, darling.”

And suddenly, against his will, there were tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to be like him,” he said.

“You’re not,” Freddie said, more firmly.

“Not even a little bit,” Brian added. “Not at all, Rog.”

He ran to them, clambering back onto the bed. He clung to Freddie tightly, shaking, heaving with dry sobs. Freddie hushed him, rubbing at his back. Deacy and Brian quickly joined in, all four of them clinging to each other.

It was ridiculous, Roger thought. Freddie was the one who was sick and in pain. Roger should have been looking after him, not the other way around. What kind of boyfriend was he? What kind of Alpha was he?

_ The worst kind. _

“Darling, it’s alright,” Freddie said. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know _ you. _”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Roger mumbled.

“You don’t,” Freddie said. “Roggie, darling, you don’t. You never have.”

_ That, _Roger knew, was an outright lie. He had. Of course he had. It was what he was best at wasn’t it?

It was what he’d always done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you expected a brawl, huh?  
That damn scene got re-written twice. Originally, it WAS going to be a huge fight, but...It just didn't feel right. Not with Roger's utter terror of being like Michael. That's one thing that can freeze him in place.  
Poor Roggie. It's his turn to get the angst thrown on him for a while.
> 
> As for Joe, I don't think this is the last we'll be seeing of him. He, Freddie and Roger won't be able to make it up on this tour, but later? Who knows? We'll see.


	36. Dog Days Are Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger spirals, but Freddie drags him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, some fluff, and lots of emotions.

**February 9th, New York, 1976** **  
** ** _“I don't know what's worth fighting for, or why I have to scream. I don't know why I instigate, and say what I don't mean. I don't know how I got this way, I know it's not alright, so I'm breaking the habit. I'm breaking the habit, tonight.” -Breaking The Habit, _ ** **Linkin Park**

Freddie never expected to hate America, but he was seriously starting to. He’d been deemed well enough to perform and make up for the missed show, but his heart wasn’t in it now.

Roger wasn’t talking to him. To any of them. When Freddie went looking for him, Roger seemed to miraculously disappear. He was moody and quiet during rehearsal, and nothing Freddie said or did got much of a reaction. 

“Roggie?” They had ten minutes until showtime, and the more the silence stretched on, the more anxious Freddie felt. Roger wouldn’t even _ look _at him. “Rog?” Freddie reached for his hand, but Roger flinched away, jaw clenched. 

Freddie tried not to let it hurt him. Roger was...Well, rather lost in the throes of a mental breakdown. 

_ Damn it, Joe. _

He should have kept his fucking mouth shut and let Freddie handle it. He had no right poking his nose in their business, absolutely none at all. Freddie would have put it to Roger gently, he’d have found some way to laugh about it, but he didn’t get to. Joe got there first, and now Roger was back in old habits, convinced he was like his father after all.

“Boys?” Reid opened the door and gestured for them to get going. “Come on, showtime.”

It wasn’t like they could say no.

Roger pushed ahead of the rest of them, ignoring Freddie calling after him. He felt like he was going to cry. His head was still throbbing, and now his chest felt tight with anxiety.

How the hell was he supposed to fix this?

“Come on then,” Brian sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

That wasn’t something Freddie thought they’d ever be saying about a sold-out New York show, but it just seemed to drive the point home.

He was seriously starting to hate this city, this tour, this whole fucking continent. 

_ I want to go home, _ he thought. More than that, he wanted _ Roger. _How was he supposed to fix this when Roger wouldn’t even talk to him?

He’d figure it out. He would. He _ had _to.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The show went well, at least there was that. Freddie even managed to crack a few jokes about collapsing.

“That’s one way to get all the handsome Alphas in the room to swarm you, eh, lovies?” he laughed. The crowd cheered, hooting and laughing. Brian shook his head at him, smiling fondly. Freddie turned to Roger hopefully, but his boyfriend looked away as soon as their eyes met.

Ouch. Was this _ Freddie’s _fault? Maybe if he’d just said something sooner...Maybe if he’d not spoken to Joe in the first place…

Those thoughts weren’t helping. They just made him want to cry.

He wanted to grab Roger by the shoulders and demand he snap out of it. He wanted to shake him until he saw sense again. 

_ You’re not like Michael. _ He’d said it again and again until his voice deserted him. Brian had said it. John had said it. Roger wasn’t listening. They’d all fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but as soon as they woke up again, Roger was like _ this. _He’d woken up before any of them; he was already gone when Freddie woke up.

The show went well. The crowd didn’t notice a thing. At the end they threw roses, and Freddie gathered them up with a smile.

Still, he wondered if anyone noticed the tears in his eyes. He wondered if anyone thought it strange that Roger left the stage first.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father; run for your children, for your sisters, and brothers. Leave all your love and your longing behind you, can't carry it with you, if you want to survive. The dog days are over. The dog days are done. Can't you hear the horses? 'Cause here they come.” -Dog Days Are Over, _ ** **Florence And The Machine**

Roger wanted to be alone, but no one seemed to get that. The boys kept trying to corner him, Freddie looked like he was about to cry, and Roger just wanted to be alone for five fucking minutes.

As soon as he was out of his costume, he fled the dressing room. They couldn’t follow him, half-dressed as they were. He was safe in the knowledge that even if Freddie _ did _try to follow him, there was no way Brian or Deacy would let a half-clothed Omega in heat go running down the halls.

Which sounded awful, he knew. But there you go. He was awful, so what did it matter?

He was mostly packed; he could finish tomorrow. For now, he escaped into the city.

Fuck, did people really think he’d hit Freddie? He knew he could be quick with his fists, but...But with _ Freddie? _ Every inch of his being shrank back from the possibility. The thought was too terrible to contemplate. How could he _ ever _ hit Freddie? He couldn’t. Not ever. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea for a moment. It was _ Freddie, _his Freddie; bright-eyed, sweet, stubborn Freddie.

And Roger was letting him down. Again.

He didn’t want to be Michael. He’d rather be dead than be like him. 

But Roger knew he had a temper. He always had. Right from when he was small, his father taught him to hit first, ask questions later. It had taken years to get out of that mindset, but clearly he _ wasn’t, _not if people thought he would hurt Freddie.

Did Freddie think that?

He felt sick at the thought. If Freddie was afraid of him, the way Winifred was once afraid of Michael, he might genuinely throw up, or throw himself off the nearest bridge.

If he was honest, he lost track of time. He walked a _ lot, _not really taking his surroundings in. He popped into a few bars, a few clubs, and quickly left. Honestly, back in college, this would have been just what he needed to get out of his head: go to a club, get shit-faced, take someone home.

_ No, _he thought. Christ, no. He wouldn’t do that to Freddie. Not him, not ever. It would crush him.

_ You’re already crushing him, _part of him said. He’d spent a whole day ignoring him, avoiding him. He’d just ditched him after the show.

And Freddie still wasn’t well.

_ Go home, _a voice that sounded terribly like Brimi said.

He looked at his watch, blinking dazedly. Three-thirty. _ Fuck, _Fred was going to gut him for this. Or, perhaps worse, Deacy would kill him for upsetting Freddie.

Time to face the music. He desperately would have preferred to stay out until the sun rose. If they weren’t on tour, maybe he would have.

_ I’m awful, _ he thought. The fuck was _ wrong _with him? 

It was like snapping out of a daydream, back to reality. It was three-thirty am, he was in the middle of New York City; he’d run out of the concert hall, leaving his bandmates and boyfriend behind. Freddie was either in tears, or ready to kill him, or both. 

Fuck. _ Fuck. _Okay, he had to go back to the hotel, he had to go back to Freddie, to his boys. Because wandering the city wasn’t going to do anything but make all this worse. He just...God, he had to talk to Freddie. He had to explain.

Roger couldn’t wait to get out of this fucking city.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me. Oh, and I rush to the start. Running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are. Nobody said it was easy, oh, it's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be so hard. I'm going back to the start.” -The Scientist, _ ** **Coldplay**

To his surprise, Crystal was pacing the lobby. He took one look at Roger and went red.

“_ There _ you are!” His assistant ran over, and gave him an almighty thump on the arm. Then another. And another. “You bloody _ wanker! _ Brian, Deacs and Ratty are still out looking for you! Reid’s calling fucking _ everyone _ looking for you, Freddie’s been in fucking _ bits, _crying this is all his fault!”

“It’s not,” Roger said weakly.

“Well _ I _ know that, but he’s fucking convinced it is.” Snarling, Crystal pointed to the lifts. “Get in. No arguing. And don’t you _ ever _frighten me like that again, you bastard.”

“Didn’t know you cared so much,” Roger managed to joke, though his voice wavered.

“I’ll dance on your grave,” Crystal said flatly as they got in the lift. Once the doors closed however, Crystal hugged him tightly. “Don’t fucking run off like that, you twat,” he muttered. He really was going through his list of insults tonight. “You’ll put me in an early grave.”

“Think I already see some grey hairs.”

“Suck my dick, Roger.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They reached their floor, and Crystal shoved him out of the lift, marching him towards his suite.

“Talk to him,” Crystal said firmly. “And pray Deacy doesn’t throw you off the balcony when he gets back.” With that, Crystal went in search of Reid, to tell him to call off the search party.

And Roger suddenly felt terrified. He felt very small, very stupid and humiliated. He’d made Freddie cry again.

Trying to stop his hands from shaking, Roger went into the suite. The living area was still lit; two vases had been smashed, and Freddie was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, one hand still clutching his pendant in a death-grip.

He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Slowly, cautiously, he shook Freddie awake.

“Fred? Sweetheart?” Did he even have a right to call him that?

Freddie’s eyes snapped open, unusual for him; he was normally slow to wake, sleepy and lazy, unless he was having a nightmare. Then he tossed and turned and woke up gasping or screaming.

This was new. Freddie stared at him. Slowly, he pushed himself up, never taking his eyes from Roger’s face.

Then he grabbed a pillow and started hitting Roger with it.

“You-utter-_ cock- _Roger-Taylor!”

“Fred- _ OW, _Jesus- wait-!”

“How the _ fuck _ are we meant to sort things out, if you keep bloody _ disappearing!? _ Well? Or did you even fucking _ think? _” There were tears in Freddie’s eyes, his cheeks were flushed, but he still whacked Roger again and again, until Roger managed to snatch the pillow from him.

Then Freddie just kept slapping at his chest, sobbing. Trying not to cry himself, Roger wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Freddie, I’m so sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Freddie mumbled. He clung to Roger so hard it hurt. “Fuck’s sake, Roggie, what were you _ doing? _”

“Not thinking,” Roger said with a sigh. “Well- trying not to think, more like.” One hand tangled in Freddie’s hair, the other stroked up and down the Omega’s back. “I just- I kept thinking about what Fanelli said…”

“You’re _ not _like Michael,” Freddie said firmly. He pulled back, his eyes suddenly fierce as he held Roger’s face in his small hands. “You’re not like him at all.”

“I am,” Roger insisted. “I’ve the same temper, I’m jealous, I’m possessive-”

“So am I,” Freddie interrupted. He kissed Roger’s forehead and the tip of his nose. “_ You’re not like him. _ Roggie, you’re a good person. You make me feel _ safe, _don’t you get that? I always feel safe with you there. You even made me feel safe in EMI.”

Roger wasn’t sure what to say to that. He felt dangerously close to tears.

“You were the first person to make me feel safe in England,” Freddie said. His breathing hitched, like he was trying not to cry again, but he continued. “I finally felt like I could stop looking over my shoulder all the time, I knew you _ actually _ cared, that you didn’t want anything off me. You just- you just wanted _ me, _and I’d never had that before.”

So maybe both of them were crying now. It wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.

“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Freddie said fiercely. “I don’t give a damn what Joe Fanelli thinks of you. I care about what _ I _ think, and I _ love _you. I love you just the way you are, darling. I wouldn’t change anything.”

Fighting back a sob, Roger flung his arms around him; Freddie fell back onto the sofa, and Roger hovered over him, clinging to him.

“I love you,” he sobbed. “Fuck, Fred, I love you so much. I’m sorry, I- God, I don’t deserve you, I-”

Freddie clapped a hand over his mouth. “Yes, you do,” he said, as if it was that simple. “You know why? Because I said so. Fuck everyone else.”

It was one of the messiest, wettest, tearful kisses of Roger’s life. It wasn’t exactly the height of romance, but Roger clung to Freddie like he was drowning regardless, and Freddie’s fingers dug into his arms so hard they were likely to leave bruises.

Finally, Roger pulled back, gasping. “I love you,” he repeated. “I really am sorry, Fred.”

“I know,” Freddie said. He brushed Roger’s hair back, offering a weak smile. “One more thing to talk about, huh?”

He didn’t want to. He hated thinking about Michael.

But Freddie was right. And if they could talk about Heydar, if they could go against EMI and win, they could talk about this.

“Yeah,” Roger sighed. “Yeah, guess so.” He managed a shaky grin. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“That makes two of us,” Freddie said. He leaned up to briefly kiss Roger again. “We can handle this,” he said. “We can handle anything.” He sounded so convinced, the way he used to when he talked about being stars one day. Roger had always believed him when he spoke like that, and it was no different now. He still believed him.

And hadn’t he said something similar to Fanelli? _ “We came out on top against Foster, we overcame Sheffield, we walked out of EMI in one piece.” _They could do anything. 

For now, he held onto Freddie, both of them squished together on the sofa. 

“Did you break those vases?” Roger asked.

Freddie’s smile was sheepish. “We can pay them back,” he said. Roger shook his head, smiling despite himself. He was just starting to drift off when the door slammed open, and Brian and Deacy stormed in.

Brian had clearly been crying; his hair stood on end from tugging at it, his lip was bitten ragged. Deacy on the other hand, was shaking with rage.

_ “ROGER TAYLOR, YOU UTTER BASTARD!” _

Clearly he owed them an apology too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Roggie. Childhood trauma doesn't go away easily, but Freddie's determined to look after him.
> 
> Up next, we'll be jumping to the end of the American leg of the tour, and heading to Japan, and a little surprise...😉


	37. Skyscraper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye America, hello Japan.
> 
> And hello to a welcome surprise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some good news at last...

**March 13th, San Diego, America, 1976** **  
** ** _“Found my heart, and broke it here, made friends and lost them through the years. And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I've grown.But I can't wait to go home. I'm on my way; driving at ninety down those country lanes, singing to ‘Tiny Dancer.’ And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real. We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill.” -Castle On The Hill, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

It was an early flight, and no one was exactly leaping for joy. After that killer show the night before, they’d hoped to sleep in. They’d finished the tour on a high note, that was for sure. Say what you want about _ Queen, _but they knew how to go out with a bang.

Combine the show, the after party, and Roger fucking his brains out, and Freddie didn’t ever want to move again. This hotel’s bed was quite comfy, thank you.

But like it or not, they had to get moving.

Saying goodbye to the staff was odd; these people had followed them all over America, and the likelihood of meeting them ever again was slim.

And then Freddie came face to face with Joe. Freddie glanced away, not at all sure of what to say. He wasn’t sure if he _ had _anything to say. It was so strange. They’d so briefly been friends, and now...Well, now they weren’t much of anything.

Freddie had liked him. He wasn’t so sure now.

“All the best,” Joe said quietly, and Freddie looked at him, lips pressed together. Eventually, he nodded.

“Goodbye, Joe,” he said. He turned away and walked back to his boys, tucking himself against Roger’s side.

Now that he was up and on his way to the airport, he just wanted to keep going. Exhausted as he was, he just wanted to go home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**London, England…**

Wonderful English weather: it was raining. Because _ of course _ it was. 

_ Typical, _ Freddie thought, scowling. He ran through his mental checklist: no taxis this time, Reid had arranged for them to be driven home. He could collect the cats from Mary tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how tired he was. Maybe she’d drop them off if he asked nicely. He didn’t look forward to unpacking. That could wait- until Roger inevitably got fed up and unpacked _ for _him.

Freddie dozed off in the car. He didn’t wake up until Roger shook him awake.

“Come on, Fred, we’re home.”

They were. Freddie couldn’t have been more relieved.

Touring was fun. Touring was amazing. He was literally living the dream, but he was only human: he was worn out, he needed to rest for a few days before the next leg of the tour. At least that would be in Japan, he couldn’t wait to go back.

For now though, he was quietly relieved to leave America and all it’s drama behind.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a quiet few days. They mostly stayed home, watching ridiculous amounts of television and cuddling the cats. Ziggy, usually so slow and lazy, had sprinted in circles when Mary dropped him off. Tom and Jerry tripped over each other in excitement, and Freddie scooped all three of them up, cuddling them close (and admittedly crying into their fur.)

He didn’t want to leave them again. He felt like such a shit cat-parent sometimes. They were his _ babies, _and he kept leaving them. He knew he was leaving them in good hands, but he still felt awful.

“I feel guilty,” Freddie admitted to Roger. “We’re leaving them alone so much.”

“Yeah, me too,” Roger said, stroking Tom’s back. “I know they’re fine. They’re more than fine, but...I dunno, it was really sweet how they were so excited to see us, but I felt bad.”

Freddie nodded, burying his face in Ziggy’s fur, managing a weak giggle when Jerry licked his nose.

But overall, guilt aside, it was the break they desperately needed. On a day where the rain poured down in sheets, they barely left the bed. They fed the cats, they had a late breakfast and they went back to bed, cuddled up close. For the first time in months, it was just the two of them. Roger even took the phone off the hook, shooting Freddie a mischievous grin.

Smiling, Freddie took Roger’s hand and led him back to bed.

The sex was slow, almost lazy, nothing like the sex on tour: they’d been rough, they’d been quick more often than not, usually messy with how drunk they were, and quite often _ frantic. _

Not now. 

Now, they were both unusually quiet, save some soft gasps and moans. Freddie held onto Roger, back arching, but his nails didn’t dig in, he didn't scratch like usual. For the first time in months, they could actually take their time, and they both intended to make the most of that.

Afterwards, Freddie didn’t want to let go of Roger. It didn’t take much to convince Roger to climb into the bath with him. Everything was still slow and sweet, and the hot water, combined with Roger kissing at his shoulder and stroking a hand over his stomach, had Freddie struggling to keep his eyes open.

Roger really _ must _have been in a romantic mood, because as he helped Freddie out of the bath, as he laughingly insisted on helping Freddie dry off, he pressed a soft kiss to Freddie’s stomach.

(Later, Freddie would joke that Roger must have been magic.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


**20th March, Tokyo Japan, 1976** **  
** ** _“Breakfast at Tiffany's, and bottles of bubbles; girls with tattoos who like getting in trouble. Lashes and diamonds, ATM machines, buy myself all of my favorite things. Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch; who would’ve thought it'd turn me to a savage?” -7 Rings, _ ** **Ariana Grande**

Roger couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Misa waiting for them, just like last time. She even had another bouquet. She beamed when she spotted them, waving, standing on her toes.

“Wonder if the limo will be even bigger?” Crystal said. Roger was pretty sure he wasn’t joking. Besides, Roger had honestly been wondering about that too.

“It’s lovely to see you, boys,” Misa said. She handed Freddie the bouquet, and Roger looked at the new entourage. It was a bigger group this time; four men, three Betas, one Alpha, bustled forward to help their own assistants with the luggage. There were three Alpha bodyguards and a new Beta chauffeur. One of the bodyguards, the one with an earring, seemed particularly stunned about being in an Omega’s presence. 

Jet-lagged though they were, they were all ecstatic to be back. Freddie was practically vibrating, clinging to Roger’s arm, grinning openly.

The crowd outside was _ nuts. _ Roger had been able to hear them before they even reached the doors. They now had a _ police escort. _Talk about living the high life. 

The limo really was bigger this time. They once more had chocolates and champagne. This time, when Freddie went to poke his head out of the skylight, Brian let him. Laughing, he even joined in.

“Children, please,” Deacy said, but he was grinning.

“Yeah, make room,” Roger said. “I want a turn.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


This time around, they were put in separate (though adjoining) suites. Brian and Deacy in one, Roger and Freddie in the other. And sure, they were right next door, but it still felt weird, not being all together. 

The crowd of fans outside the hotel didn’t leave until nightfall. Lucky thing the band had nowhere to be, getting past that lot proved to be a challenge. There were even more bodyguards and policemen keeping the fans back; there was no way that flimsy little barrier would have done much.

But right now, Roger focussed on Freddie. His boyfriend lay spread out like a starfish on the bed, eyes closed, gently smiling. He looked so _ happy, _so utterly happy to be back, and Roger’s heart swelled. It was no wonder, really, that Freddie loved it here. In Japan, he was treated equally; the Omega population wasn’t that high, Misa hadn’t lied about that (Brian had, of course, gone and looked it up), so people were, more often than not, surprised and happy to meet Freddie. No sneers, no groping, no abuse.

That alone made Roger love Japan too.

He looked at Freddie, and the thought crept into his head- _ You don’t deserve him. _No. No, stop that. Bugger that. He couldn’t keep thinking like that.

After the tour was over, he’d keep his promise and book an appointment with a therapist. 

That was for later. For now, Roger was all too happy to order room-service. Brian and Deacy came in from their suite, and all four of them cuddled together on the huge soft sofa, watching some ridiculous game shows and dramas, stuffing their faces.

“We’ll kill it,” Brian said, half-way through one such drama. “The shows, I mean. We’ll smash it.”

“Of course we will,” Roger said confidently. After all, they had last time. “We’re better than ever.”

Deacy murmured a sleepy “Hear, hear.” Freddie, to Roger’s surprise, didn’t say anything. A small, kittenish snore was their only answer. Freddie was already fast asleep.

Fantastic as the beds were, none of the boys actually slept in them the first night. They all fell asleep on the sofa, with the TV still on.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**22nd March…**

Brian wasn’t wrong: they went out there, and they _ owned _that stage. The screams and cheers were deafening, and security kept the fans back from getting too close to the stage. Whenever anyone got too close for comfort, reaching out until they nearly touched Freddie, security was there to push them back.

Freddie laughed about it, shaking his head indulgently, but honestly, Roger appreciated that the guys were efficient. 

The first show was a huge success, but as they went back to the dressing room, Freddie’s breathing suddenly hitched. His hands went to his stomach, grimacing.

“Freddie, you okay?” Deacy asked, eyebrows furrowed. Freddie nodded, though he looked a trifle too pale. 

“Just nauseous, darling,” he said with a reassuring smile. All the same, when Roger wrapped an arm around him, Freddie didn’t protest.

“Could be the jet-lag,” one of the Japanese assistants, a skinny Beta named Akio said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I could get you some medicine?”

“Jet-lag after two days?” another assistant, Nobu said, rolling his eyes.

“It _ happens. _”

Every bloody assistant and roadie turned to Freddie.

“Are you sure you’re alright, sir?” Akio asked. The body guards already looked frazzled, and Roger resisted the mad urge to laugh. Good God, they actually seemed to fuss even more than he did.

Crystal looked incredibly amused, but Ratty was peering at Freddie worriedly. Freddie himself only looked around at them all and laughed.

“Oh, darlings, I’m fine, thank you. It’s just a stomach-ache.”

“If you’re sure…” Akio bit his lip, Crystal snorted, poorly hiding his laughter.

“I’m sure,” Freddie said firmly, though not unkindly. “I’ll be fine with some sleep, dear.”

“Just our luck if you end up sick after the first show,” Roger joked.

“Don’t jinx it,” Freddie said.

He must have though, because he woke up to the sound of Freddie vomiting the next morning.

“We can cancel tonight,” Roger said, rubbing Freddie’s back.

“Don’t you _ fucking _ dare,” Freddie rasped, still crouched over the toilet. He looked wretched. “I’ll be _ fine. _”

“You said that last time and nearly fainted,” Brian pointed out patiently.

“I’ll be fine,” Freddie repeated firmly, stubborn as ever. His glare rather lacked it’s usual muster though, with his tangled hair and sweaty face. At their unconvinced faces, he sighed, slouching more than ever. “Okay. If this doesn’t pass by dinner, we can cancel.”

It passed, but it was back the next day.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**March 28th, Osaka Japan, 1976** **  
** ** _“You can take everything I have. You can break everything I am, like I'm made of glass; like I'm made of paper. Go on and try to tear me down, I will be rising from the ground. Like a skyscraper, like a skyscraper.” -Skyscraper, _ ** **Demi Lovato**

Some days, Freddie was in perfect health. On other days, he was horribly sick in the mornings; the dizziness lasted until the afternoon, sometimes well into the evening. He clung to Roger like a limpet, something Roger wasn’t about to question or refuse.

And then something happened that would forever make Osaka Roger’s favourite place in Japan.

Not only was it the first place in Japan they ever went to, the place that had finally made Freddie feel _ happy _again, but then…

But then, the day before their next show, Freddie sent Ratty down to the nearest pharmacy, whispering instructions in Ratty’s ear. Ratty’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

He seemed oddly twitchy when he got back.

“Here’s your stuff, Fred,” he said, handing Freddie a little plastic bag. Freddie’s smile had a tired edge to it, but he was sweet as ever when he thanked Ratty. Ratty, as usual, looked delighted when Freddie smiled at him.

Honestly, Roger just assumed it was medicine. He barely gave it a second thought.

He didn’t question it when Freddie slipped into the bathroom. He just watched TV with Brian and Deacy, thinking about the next day’s show, trying to remember where the after-party was being held, and who exactly Misa said would be there beyond _ big executives. _

And then Freddie came back out. He was crying, but beaming, utterly _ glowing _with happiness.

“Freddie?” Roger sat up straight, alarmed- and then he noticed the two pregnancy tests clutched in Freddie’s hand.

“Fred?”

Freddie gave half a laugh, half a sob. He nodded.

“Oh my God,” Brian gasped. Roger barely heard him. He jumped off the sofa and grabbed Freddie, pulling the Omega into his arms, holding on tight, not even trying to fight back his own tears. The tests clattered to the floor, their _ positive _results staring them all straight in the face.

Brian and Deacy quickly joined them. Deacy was laughing, Brian was frantically asking if Freddie needed anything, and Roger sank to his knees, his face pressed against Freddie’s stomach. Freddie’s hands tangled in his hair, and Roger was hard pressed not to straight-up sob.

He quickly lost that battle, his face still pressed against Freddie’s flat (but not for long, oh God, not for long) stomach, his arms wrapped around Freddie’s hips.

“Holy shit,” he managed. “Holy shit, you’re pregnant. Fred, you’re _ pregnant. _”

“Brilliant timing,” Freddie laughed, wiping at his wet eyes. Deacy kissed Freddie’s temple, grinning. Brian squeezed Roger’s shoulder, his free arm around Freddie’s waist.

“You little drama queen,” Brian said fondly. “We’ve still a month left!”

“You’re pregnant,” Roger repeated. He felt so happy he could burst, he couldn’t quite comprehend that this was actually _ happening, _it was finally happening again.

_ Freddie was pregnant. _

“I’m pregnant,” Freddie agreed. He laughed again, seemingly unable to help it, and Roger kissed Freddie’s stomach, in no hurry to move.

  
_ Stay safe in there, _ he thought. _ Please stay safe in there. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You fuckers and all your lovely comments and excitement made me make changes 😂 They were originally going to have a kid much later, but hey-ho here we go.
> 
> As always, if anyone has any questions/requests regarding the series, or if you just wanna yell at me, I'm on tumblr @paladinmoony


	38. Sweet Child O' Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tour is nearly over, and the boys struggle to keep their secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff time.

**April 1st, Tokyo, 1976** **  
** ** _“We had the songs that we sang along to, you had the moves to make me dance with you. I always saw you reaching and catching stars. Did you follow your, follow your fire? We had the thing that everyone wanted, hung on your sleeve, you wore your heart on it. Did you get out? I'm wondering where you are. Did you follow your, follow your fire?” -Follow Your Fire, _ ** **Kodaline**

John would like to say they were being subtle, but no, they really weren’t. Freddie was in a clear daze of sheer joy, skipping about with a smile, giddy as anything. Roger was much happier, following after Freddie like a love-struck puppy, fussing if Freddie so much as sneezed. Brian hovered protectively, refusing to let Freddie lift a finger.

John couldn’t judge. He was just as bad. For once, he took charge, escorting Freddie through crowds, even nudging their guards out of the way, wanting to look after his friend himself.

“Good news?” Ratty asked idly. Well, he’d bought the tests, of course he knew.

John nodded, and Ratty’s smile widened. Crystal clearly knew something was up, but he played along, acting like he didn’t notice their behaviour...But he and Ratty were both suddenly at Freddie’s beck and call (well, Ratty more so than usual), eagerly getting Freddie anything he asked for, and even a few things he didn’t.

The Japanese team noticed. Misa noticed.

“Is something going on?” she asked.

“No,” Brian lied. 

“Is it a heat?” she asked.

“Oh...Maybe.”

Not in the least. Freddie’s scent hadn’t changed yet, at the earliest it wouldn’t until the end of the month, when they’d be finished with the tour.

It was one more thing to worry about.

“Am I okay to perform like this?” Freddie asked, tugging on his own hair.

“It’s only, what, a month?” Brian asked. Freddie nodded, so Brian smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Fred, it’s so early- there’s no harm in it.” Freddie looked desperate to believe him.

Hell, _ John _was desperate to believe him.

They shut up when the rest of the team came into the dressing room. They gave each other quick glances, smiling, glowing, all four of them in on the secret and in no hurry to share it just yet.

It felt like the early days. Clinging together, the four of them against the world.

John had done his best to help last time. He was even more determined to help this time.

Akio held up two outfits for Freddie: an all white outfit with a little silver corset, or the black studded jumpsuit with the white “wings” vest.

Freddie eyed the little corset doubtfully and picked the black one. John couldn’t blame him.

Thankfully, because it was Japan, because the team was so worried about somehow offending Freddie or his modesty, they didn’t question it when he ducked behind the big black screen to change, though Crystal raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Again, John couldn’t say he blamed Freddie. Honestly, a part of him was paranoid that everyone would take one look and know too.

There were no real signs yet, of course. It was only a month or so along, Freddie’s stomach was still flat. His scent hadn’t changed. _ Yet. _ Hopefully that would all change soon. No, that _ would _change soon. It had to. John would make sure it would.

He’d do anything to keep that awful dead look from ever coming back into Freddie’s eyes; he’d do anything to keep that heart-breaking grief off Roger’s face.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“If I'd stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry. Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child of mine! Woah, oh-oh-oh! Sweet love of mine! She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain. I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.” -Sweet Child O’ Mine, _ ** **Guns N’ Roses**

The concert was a smash of course; Freddie was a little wild thing, almost flying across the stage, magnetic, electric, laughing and flirting with the audience, clearly giddy, the most gleeful he’d been on the whole tour.

The crowd ate it right up, screaming their names, screaming Freddie’s name, reaching for him like he was sunlight and they’d been trapped in the dark.

Once or twice, Freddie’s hand rested on his stomach. Whenever it did, he looked at Roger and beamed. And Roger, to Brian’s relief and delight, was utterly glowing, pulling boundless energy from seemingly nowhere.

At the end of the show, when they took their bows, Roger lifted Freddie straight up, spinning him around. The crowd laughed and cheered, and Freddie clung to Roger, shrieking with laughter.

So maybe they were being obvious after all. Fuck it. Brian didn’t care. He cared about the joy in his friends’ eyes. He cared about how care-free they suddenly seemed again, like nothing could ever break them.

He wondered how long they had until the press started speculating. Fuck them too. This time, Roger and Freddie would be free to handle the announcement in their own time. No interference, no sell-outs. This time, they could do what they wanted.

Misa was watching them speculatively, but for the most part she just seemed happy that _ they _were happy. 

“Ready for the party?” she asked.

The _ Queen _boys looked at each other, arms linked. All of them were grinning, still high on adrenaline.

“Definitely,” Roger said. 

Honestly, with the way Brian was feeling, he was pretty sure he could party for a week straight. Maybe he’d have to test that theory tonight.

Everything had suddenly taken a turn for the better, and he didn’t want it to end.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger couldn’t keep the grin off his face when he looked at Freddie. His boyfriend was wearing a one-sleeved shirt, a white-gold armband on his bare arm. He didn’t drink, obviously. His hands kept twitching towards his stomach and stopping short, trying not to draw attention to it, lest anyone outside their circle guess.

“Having fun, gorgeous?” Roger murmured, hugging him from behind, kissing at Freddie’s bare shoulder.

Freddie nodded, twisting around to kiss him. “On cloud nine,” he confirmed, eyes sparkling.

“Not long to go and then we’re home,” Roger said.

“Yes, but then Branson wants to talk about that show in Hyde Park,” Freddie reminded him. “Should we cancel that?”

“We’ll see,” Roger said. “Might depend on the date. But we’re getting you to a doctor first thing when we get home.”

“Deal,” Freddie said, leaning against him. His hand went to his stomach and stayed there. Roger linked their fingers, half-hoping the baby would somehow defy all known laws of science and start kicking now. No such luck, obviously, but he liked to think it helped somehow. That, if nothing else, it made Freddie smile.

It sure made Roger smile.

“Reckon Ziggy’s gonna stick to you like glue again?” he asked, grin widening. 

“Oh, definitely,” Freddie laughed. “But- oh dear, how do you think Tom and Jerry will handle it?”

“They’ll be your mini-bodyguards,” Roger said, not doubting it for a moment. “One thing’s for sure though, your parents are going to castrate me.”

“Now we can’t have that,” Freddie said brightly. He twisted around entirely to wrap his arms around Roger’s neck, kissing the tip of his nose. He smile morphed into a smirk, eyes darkening. “Now you have _ absolutely _ no excuse not to take care of me during the third month.”

Ah yes, the month of being constantly horny on Freddie’s end. Fuck it, Roger wouldn’t complain about that. Snickering, he leaned down to kiss the mark on Freddie’s neck, breathing their mixed scents in.

“Deal,” he said. “Just don’t throw stuff at my head this time, yeah?”

“No promises, darling.”

Yeah, he didn’t expect anything less.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**April 5th, Tokyo, 1976** **  
** ** _“Show me a garden that's bursting into life. Let's waste time, chasing cars around our heads. I need your grace to remind me to find my own. If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told, before we get too old; show me a garden that's bursting into life. All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see.” -Chasing Cars, _ ** **Snow Patrol**

The tour had finished two days ago, but they still had a few days before the start of the Australia shows; they weren’t leaving until the eight.

So for now, the boys were happy to be shown around Tokyo, taking in the sights- and once more being spoiled rotten.

Freddie wasn’t about to complain about it. He fucking _ loved _it. And if he slowed down around any baby stores, that was his own business.

He kept expecting to wake up. Because this surely wasn’t happening again? Surely he was just having a lovely dream? But no, it really was happening. He was pregnant. Only their inner circle knew. He had to fight to not constantly touch his stomach. He tried to tell himself to not get carried away, but he couldn’t help but walk about with a smile on his face. He stuck to Roger’s side like glue, beaming away. He genuinely didn’t think anything could ruin his mood right now. A thunder storm could break out and he’d still smile. Sheffield could walk around the corner and Freddie would laugh in his face.

Once more, they were all given kimonos. Freddie held his, a rich red one, and he had an idea. If they still did the show in Hyde Park...If that was still planned for the summer...Well, this may just be handy with a reveal. It was certainly big enough, and loose enough, to cover any hint of a bump.

Until he shrugged it off.

He filed that thought away. They might not even _ do _the show, not if he was too far along, not if it wasn’t safe for the baby.

_ The baby. _God, it felt odd to think like that again. It felt wonderful to think like that again.

For now, he let the make-up artists and hairstylists fuss around him, catching Roger’s eye and poking his tongue out.

“You’re really glowing today,” one of the girls said approvingly. 

“Oh, I’ve just had a good day,” Freddie said. They chattered away as they made him over, and he only listened with half an ear, caught in a happy daze. He thought he’d only be excited to go home and rest after a hectic tour, but now, of all things, he was excited to go to the doctor. He wanted to get checked over as soon as possible. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt it all out, to scream it to the world until his voice gave way, but he managed to hold back. Just about.

No one except his boys seemed to notice how his hand kept going to his stomach, and all three of them smiled at him each time. Roger especially suddenly looked so content, like all his anger had vanished. Certainly, Freddie knew better than that: he was still going to drag Roger to a therapist by the ear if he had to.

For now though, he was all too happy to cuddle up close to his boyfriend as the photographer clicked-clicked-clicked away.

It would all go right this time. It _ would. _It had to. Freddie would make sure it did, no matter what.

Less than a month to go, and then he could book an appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally gave them another break. I'm not totally evil 😂


	39. Don't Stop Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have their first doctor appointment, and begin arrangements for the Hyde Park show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tour is complete, and now we can move onto the pregnancy arc!

**April 8th, England, 1976** **  
** ** _“I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky, like a tiger defying the laws of gravity. I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva; I'm gonna go, go, go, there's no stopping me! I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah. Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I'm traveling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!” -Don’t Stop Me Now, _ ** **Queen **

Finally, _ finally _they were home. The first thing Freddie did was race for the phone to book a doctor’s appointment. His scent was just starting to change, stronger than usual, but it hadn’t developed that underlying sweetness that would give him away yet. He wondered how long that would last; it should fully develop soon.

He managed to snag an appointment in three days’ time, and turned to Roger with a grin.

“Three days,” he said happily. Roger looked relieved; Freddie couldn’t blame him. He was too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


This time, they were introduced to Doctor Kevin Geller who was, to both their shock, an Omega. He was quite a small man with curly brown hair, a long nose and a gentle smile.

Freddie could honestly say he’d never met an Omega doctor before. It was a shock, but it instantly made him smile. Truth be told, it helped relax him too. Even Roger didn’t seem so tense.

“You’re a little over two months along,” Kevin said, confirming their suspicions. “Everything’s looking good so far. Any pain or sickness, Freddie?”

“In the mornings,” Freddie said. “But it’s not too bad.”

“Let me know if that changes,” Kevin said. “And we’ll see what we can do. But for now, there’s nothing to worry about.” With a smile, he went through those achingly familiar motions to get the scan on his screen.

And just like that, there it was. A blurry, black and white image. Kevin tapped a little dot, looking over his shoulder at them.

“Say hello to Baby,” he said cheerfully. 

It hurt more than Freddie had expected. He felt dangerously close to tears. He was ecstatic, of course he was, but he kept thinking of Heydar and how everything went so horribly _ wrong. _ It was just a little dot. Another peanut. He was pretty certain that if he lost this one, he might genuinely go mad. He couldn’t do all that again, he just _ couldn’t. _He wouldn’t. He point blank refused to. 

_ I’ll keep you safe. I’ll do it right this time, I promise. _

He looked at Roger, whose grip on Freddie’s arm was starting to hurt; his boyfriend was a trifle too pale, but his eyes were bright with joy.

Freddie didn’t doubt they were thinking the same thing.

It would work out this time. It had to.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**April 18th, Lightning Records ** ** _  
_ ** ** _“Go, go, go; figure it out, figure it out, but don't stop moving. Go, go, go; figure it out, figure it out, you can do this. So my love, keep on running. You gotta get through today, yeah. There my love, keep on running. Gotta keep those tears at bay, oh. Oh, my love, don't stop burning; gonna send them up in flames. In flames…” -Flames, _ ** **David Guetta ft. Sia**

By the time Horace called them into the studio, Freddie’s scent had changed entirely. Stronger than usual, with that tell-tale sweetness, impossible to ignore.

Bless him, but Horace instantly jumped up to help Freddie into a seat.

“I’m not even showing yet, I can move by myself,” Freddie laughed.

“Oh hush,” Horace said. He patted Freddie on the shoulder, smiling fondly. “You’re already glowing- and I can’t believe none of you rang ahead!”

“Surprise,” Roger said with a smirk.

“Surprise indeed,” Horace huffed. “Do Reid and, er, Miami know?”

“Not yet.”

Horace took one look at all of their amused faces and threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“Trouble, the whole lot of you.” But he was still smiling as he sat back down.

He couldn’t really judge, even he looked delighted by Reid and Miami’s stunned gazes.

“You kept that fucking quiet!” Reid cried, but Miami totally _ beamed. _Freddie, trying not to laugh, curled up against Roger.

“Well, now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business: Branson’s still talking about a Hyde Park show- he’s thinking June.” Horace eyed Freddie worriedly. “I can probably convince him to move it forward.”

The _ Queen _ boys exchanged glances. Biting his lip, Freddie nodded. The idea of trying to jump about, pregnant, in the middle of June, wasn’t the most appealing in the world. Besides, would that even be _ safe? _He was sure it wasn’t. Even if he didn’t do his usual tricks, there was surely still risk?

“If Fred’s not up for it we’ll cancel,” Roger warned. Reid frowned, but Horace nodded.

“Of course,” he said, like he expected it. Miami looked relieved by his compliance. 

It was a huge difference from Sheffield and Foster, that was for sure.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Branson arranged a meeting a week later. He’d been trying to arrange this free Hyde Park show since last year, but Foster had shot him down at every turn. Foster’s favourite phrases at the time had been “They work for _ me, _ not you!” as well as “Who’s going to earn anything from a _ free show!?"_ There’d been a lot of swearing.

This time, they were summoned to Branson’s office with no fuss. Miami and Reid accompanied them of course, and they hung around awkwardly in reception, until Branson’s assistant Dominique Beyrand came down to fetch them.

She was an Alpha like Roger, stunning if Roger was honest with her long black hair and cheeky smile. The first time they’d met, he’d been bowled over. He’d struggled to form sentences, desperately wanting to seem like the suave lady-killer everyone said he was.

This time, he just greeted her with a smile, his eyes instantly going to Freddie. He’d been up half the night, ill, and it showed: he looked exhausted, but he was still smiling, still determined to go about his day.

If Roger had his way, Freddie would be resting in bed. As soon as this meeting was over, Roger would be hurrying Freddie home.

Dominique blinked in surprise at Freddie, taking a deep breath, but she grinned at them both, ushering them all past the receptionist before the woman could realise as well.

“I assume you’re keeping it quiet for now?” Dominique asked.

“We are,” Roger confirmed. Dominique nodded.

“I can sneak you all out the back on the way out then,” she said. Add her to the potential-friend list- or at least an ally. She didn’t seem like she was going to screw them over, she seemed sincere. Roger hoped so anyway. The last thing they needed was for this to be leaked to the press before they were ready again.

Branson was as amiable as ever, shaking his, Brian and Deacy’s hands, and kissing Freddie’s knuckles the way Miami usually did. He didn’t raise an eyebrow when the scent hit him, he just carried on. Despite himself, Roger relaxed, at least a little bit. 

This wasn’t EMI. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He didn’t work for sexist, abusive perverts anymore. No more Sheffield, no more Foster. Their talking of suing _ Queen _ had dwindled into nothing, once Miami coldly reminded them that _ Queen _(or at least Roger and Freddie) could also drag them to court for giving their private information to the press.

“Like I said before,” Miami had said coldly. “The public won’t stand for you abusing Freddie.”

Sheffield had backed off after that, and they hadn’t heard from EMI since. That didn’t make it all go away. All of them were wary of executives, of new authority figures, of anyone wanting to work with them really.

But for now, he listened to Branson.

“Now, Mr. Leroy asked about pushing this forward. If we do things fast, we could get this going by next month instead. Would that be any safer?” 

“We think so,” Roger said, but he wasn’t totally sure. He couldn’t be sure at all. And it was probably better to be up-front about everything, so he was quick to add, “If Freddie’s not up for it, or if the doctor says no, we won’t be doing it.”

They all braced themselves, because Branson was a relative unknown. Brian’s hands twitched, Deacy laid a hand on Freddie’s shoulder, and Roger was prepared to march them all out.

To his shock, to everyone’s shock, Branson nodded.

“Understandable,” he said calmly. He shrugged. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk your baby, boys, don’t worry.”

_ You might not, but plenty of people would, _Roger thought. But for once, they weren’t dealing with those people. For once, they all seemed to be on the same side.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dominique, as promised, escorted them all out at the back door, looking around to make sure it was quiet.

“Well, I hope you’ll be able to do it,” she said. “You four are fantastic.”

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie said brightly. Roger kept an arm around his waist, his grip tightening when Freddie yawned. He nodded to Dominique, Brian shook her hand, and they all made their way to their cars.

“I’ll let Horace know how things went,” Reid said, climbing into his car. “I’ll call you if there’s any changes, lads.” Just like that, he was gone.

“Everything okay?” Miami asked them. “You’re feeling alright, Freddie?”

“Oh, just sleepy,” Freddie said, yawning again, but Roger had to hand it to him, he still _ looked _okay, and he sounded better than he had that morning.

And, typical Freddie, he looked around at them all with a smirk. “And honestly, darlings, I hope we can do this show too.” His eyes had that mischievous glitter that Roger knew all too well.

“What are you thinking about, Fred?” Brian asked with a knowing grin.

Freddie’s hand rested on his stomach, his smirk grew. 

“I have an idea for the reveal…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life, if I remember correctly, the Hyde Park show took place in 1975, but in this 'verse (and the canon timeline) it takes place in '76, because I just can't see Foster letting them do it. I gotta double check anyway.  
(But legit, Foster letting them do a free show? He'd rather bite his own arm off.)
> 
> Next up: more doctor visits, hormones, some show prep and hopefully the actual show itself (and a very public pregnancy reveal...) 😉


	40. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys plan for the Hyde Park show, and Brian has some news of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relatively peaceful chapter for once 😂

**May 5th, 1976** **  
** ** _“I've been dancing on top of cars and stumbling out of bars; I follow you through the dark, can't get enough. You're the medicine and the pain, the tattoo inside my brain, and baby, you know it's obvious- I'm a sucker for you. You say the word and I'll go anywhere blindly. I'm a sucker for you, yeah. Any road you take, you know that you'll find me.” -Sucker, _ ** **Jonas Brothers**

The hormones hit with a vengeance- not that Roger was complaining about _ this _particular side effect.

Freddie’s sex drive had taken a sudden, and rather insane spike. He’d even been huffy when Roger wanted to get up and have breakfast. Given his way, he wouldn’t leave their bed.

Roger was pretty sure he’d have to be insane to complain about this. All the same, he was only human; by now he was feeling quite out of breath. Freddie seemed more relaxed, giving a content little hum when Roger pulled out. All the same, when Roger moved away, Freddie clung to him.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, his face pressed against Roger’s chest.

They both desperately needed a bath, but Roger didn’t move. He wrapped an arm around Freddie, holding him closer, grinning whenever his eyes strayed to Freddie’s stomach, starting to swell.

“Feeling better?” he asked, teasing.

In response, Freddie stretched, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Oh yes,” he said, grinning up at Roger. 

“Happy to be of service.”

Freddie snorted, but he cuddled in closer, smiling to himself.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They weren’t having much luck with moving the concert up. To be fair to Branson, he was apologetic about it.

Roger genuinely couldn’t get over the change in their work life. EMI had been unsympathetic, constantly saying that pregnancy wasn’t an excuse to take it easy. Horace on the other hand always rushed to pull Freddie’s chair out for him, looking at him like he expected the Omega to faint on the spot if his every whim wasn’t catered to. When Freddie, in passing, mentioned that he was craving a burger, Horace offered to send his own assistant out for some. Roger was really starting to like him. He was bloody pompous at times, but his heart was certainly in the right place.

Even the CEO, Walter, when he popped in on proceedings, asking Roger if he or Freddie needed anything.

He thought of Foster and Sheffield. He thought of the pregnancy being leaked by those fuckers. How was it possible for four men to have the same job, and yet act so differently? 

But Roger was doing his best to put EMI behind him. He was going to therapy as promised; so far everything seemed to be going smoothly with Freddie’s pregnancy.

Then came a shocker: Brian proposed to Chrissie.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“There goes my baby, she knows how to rock 'n' roll, she drives me crazy. She gives me hot and cold fever, then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat. I gotta be cool, relax, get hip and get on my tracks. Take a back seat, hitch-hike, and take a long ride on my motorbike until I'm ready. Crazy little thing called love!” -Crazy Little Thing Called Love, _ ** **Queen**

Now, they were all excited for him, don’t get them wrong. It was just...A shock. Brian hadn’t indicated that he’d planning this at all. He hadn’t even hinted to them.

Roger would have expected an ecstatic outburst, but Brian almost seemed shocked himself.

“It wasn’t really planned,” he admitted sheepishly, as Deacy patted him on the back. “I just- sort of _ did it. _”

“Well,” Roger said, blinking rapidly. “Good for you, mate!”

“Stag party!” Freddie cheered, which earned him a laugh from Brian.

“You’ll be stuck drinking water all night,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows at Freddie’s stomach.

For a moment, Freddie looked truly devastated, but he shrugged. “You’re about as graceful as a newborn giraffe when you’re drunk, Brimi love, _ someone’s _got to look after you.”

“The man’s got a point,” Deacy said with a grin.

“Oh, shut up all of you,” Brian said, but he was still smiling. He still looked a little dazed. Honestly, Roger was a little dazed too.

Slowly, his eyes went to Freddie. His boyfriend caught his eye and smiled, but quickly went back to fussing over Brian, teasing him and mock-lecturing about not telling them first thing.

“I didn’t _ plan _it!” Brian repeated. 

But it still put the seed of an idea in Roger’s mind.

He looked at Freddie again, and thought _ What if…? _

He tried to push the thought down. For now. He’d worry about it later.

Because unlike Brian, this was something Roger very much so intended to _ plan. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


The idea was soon swept away into the back of his mind. They had another doctor’s appointment. Each and every time, Roger held his breath, certain they were going to be given awful news. He held onto Freddie, his eyes stayed glued to the monitor, and he struggled to stay calm, to think rationally.

And yeah, Kevin was another Omega, but that still didn’t stop Roger from growling when Kevin slipped a finger into Freddie, poking around. The obvious discomfort on Freddie’s face didn’t exactly help matters.

Kevin and Freddie exchanged a look that so clearly screamed _ Alphas, am I right? _

“Any sickness?” Kevin asked, as he always did.

“It's only in the mornings, darling,” Freddie said. “But I still feel nauseous throughout the day. On and off, you know?”

“We’ll keep an eye on that then,” Kevin said. “Any other symptoms? Headaches, any pain at all?”

Freddie glanced at Roger, biting his lip to hide his smirk. _ Other symptoms _indeed. “Oh...Not really.” Roger had to admire Freddie’s blasé tone. He was sure he was looking very smug himself.

If Kevin noticed, he didn’t comment. He just smiled, maybe a little amused, and continued with the scan.

The sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, and Roger was once more hard pressed not to cry. He clung to Freddie, his eyes trained on the monitor, on that blurry black-and-white image. Freddie squeezed his hand tightly, leaning back against him.

“Can you tell the gender yet?” Freddie asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Kevin said with an apologetic smile. “But soon, I reckon.”

The idea was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

“What do you reckon?” Roger asked Freddie, rubbing his cheek against his boyfriend’s hair. “Boy or girl?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie said. “I- I really don’t know.”

When Roger glanced at him, Freddie looked terrified. He was smiling, likely for Kevin’s benefit, but his eyes were shining with anxiety, too wide.

“Are you okay?” he asked, quietly enough that Kevin couldn’t hear.

“I’m scared,” Freddie whispered.

Roger had to close his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. His grip on Freddie tightened, and he nodded, opening his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May 27th, Hyde Park, 1976** **  
** ** _“Broadway is black like a sinkhole. Everyone raced to the suburbs. And I'm on the rooftop with curious strangers, this is the oddest of summers. Maybe I'll medicate, maybe inebriate. Strange situations, I get anxious. Maybe I'll smile a bit, maybe the opposite, but pray that they don't call me thankless. My tell-tale heart's a hammer in my chest. Cut me a silk-tied tourniquet.” -Roaring 20s, _ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

Delays completely fucked them over. Organising this proved to be a shit show. There was even talk of pushing the show back until _ autumn. _

“No,” Freddie said, one hand resting protectively on his stomach. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to cancel.”

Branson nodded, sighing. “I know,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

In the end, Branson managed to get the show arranged for his initial proposed date: June. Late June. Far from ideal, but (hopefully) doable. 

“You’re sure, Freddie?” Brian asked.

“As I can be,” Freddie said. His hands kept wandering back to his stomach, as if that would help matters. Well, it helped him feel better at any rate, so that was something. “But I mean it, I’ll cancel if I have to.”

“Good,” Deacy said. Freddie swore he could already see the bitchy headlines, he could already hear the press yelling at him...But it would all be worth it if it meant keeping the baby safe.

They still didn’t know yet, and it made Freddie smile.

Winifred had burst into tears over the phone when they told her, and had raced to visit the very next day. Jer had cried too, but she’d been smiling the whole time, instantly fussing over Freddie like he was about to break. Bomi had smiled and patted Freddie’s head, but he’d glared at Roger.

Freddie couldn’t say he was too surprised about that. His father had pointedly looked at Freddie’s ring finger and raised his eyebrows, looking ready to throttle Roger the whole lunch. Kashmira instantly hovered protectively, and she’d been popping in to visit every second day at the _ least. _When she couldn’t visit, she called.

But the whole thing had Freddie wondering...He looked at his bare ring finger and pursed his lips. He looked at Roger’s ring finger and tilted his head, frowning, thoughts in a whirl.

_ Hm… _

Deacy calling his name snapped him out of it, and Freddie looked around at the stage. It was nearly complete, and Freddie ignored the stares of the crew as he walked around. He belted out _ “AY-OH!” _as he crossed the stage, testing his range, testing the sound, the acoustics. 

“All good, Your Majesty?” Roger asked with a teasing grin.

“Oh, I suppose it’ll have to do,” Freddie answered, giving an exaggerated pout. He grinned and went into Roger’s arms, humming as his boyfriend rocked them back and forth.

“You reckon you’re up for it?” Roger asked, and Freddie nodded.

“I think so,” he said. “I promise I’ll let you know otherwise.”

“And the reveal?”

Freddie knew he must have looked thrilled with himself as he pulled back, both hands resting on his stomach.

“Oh, Roggie, this will be so much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concert and reveal will be next time, I promise! The chapter just started to feel convoluted with it added in.


	41. Don't Call Me Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pregnancy is revealed- and the boys run into some old adversaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, baby reveal and show time!

**June 20th, Hyde Park, 1976** **  
** ** _“I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through. We are the champions, my friends, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end. We are the champions. We are the champions! No time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions of the world!” -We Are The Champions, _ ** **Queen**

Maybe it was because Freddie was normally so tiny, but he looked further along than four months. Not as big as he’d been with Heydar, but it was damn obvious. Sure, the “maternity” clothes masked it for the most part...But they also gave it away. Thankfully, no one had squealed on them to the press. Everyone was under a strict promise of secrecy, or it was their jobs on the line.

Freddie lounged in his seat next to Roger backstage, his huge red kimono utterly hiding his bump. His scent was stronger than ever, and almost every stage hand tripped over themselves to look after him. Freddie though, preferred to lean against Roger, happier to let his pack look after him, or their assistants, instead of strangers.

It was hotter than expected, and Roger couldn’t help but worry about how Freddie would manage the show.

“Don’t worry, darling, no acrobatics, I promise,” Freddie said, tucked under Roger’s arm. 

“And you’ll let us know if you don’t feel well?” Roger checked for the twentieth time. Smiling indulgently, Freddie nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As anyone could have predicted, it was packed. As soon as they stepped on stage, the crowd screamed and cheered. Plenty of them held signs or banners, most of them seemed to be in band T-shirts. Bodyguards firmly kept the crowd back, manning the barriers.

“And how are we all doing today?” Freddie asked, and the screams only grew, already deafening. Slowly, Freddie started to smirk. “It’s a bit hot out, isn’t it, darlings?”

The crowd shouted in agreement. He distinctly heard screams for him to take his kimono off.

_ Here we go. _

Grinning, Freddie took a step back from the mic, looking over his shoulder at Roger. His boyfriend oozed mischief as he jumped out from behind the drums to help slip the kimono off his shoulders. There were wolf-whistles and laughs- but when Roger stepped back, shaking out the kimono with a flourish and Freddie, in nothing but a thin white tank top and matching white shorts turned sideways, everyone started to _ shriek. _

His hands rested on his stomach, and he couldn’t stop grinning if he’d been paid to. Roger winked at the crowd, Brian was laughing, Deacy was beaming and hopping in place. Freddie glanced to the side and saw Miami and Reid waiting in the wings: their lawyer shot him a thumbs up. Reid raised an amused eyebrow, arms folded.

The crowd’s screams just kept growing. He saw a bodyguard grinning, and Freddie walked back to the mic, hands on his hips.

“And no,” he said cheerfully. “I’m not fat, my darlings, I’m _ pregnant. _”

A chorus of shrieks assaulted his ears; a few people in the front row were crying, but grinning. People were jumping and clapping, cheering, shouting congratulations, so much noise, so many voices that they all blended together, one big happy chorus of nonsense. 

“Surprise!” Freddie laughed. It took ages to calm them down, but eventually when he shouted _ “Do you want a show or not!?” _they stopped. Biting back laughter, Freddie made a show of huffing and rolling his eyes. “That’s better,” he said. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie kept to his promise: no acrobatics. He was as energetic as he could be, prancing about and dancing as much as he could, still giving the best show possible, but by his standards he took it incredibly easy. He sat at the piano whenever he felt tired, gratefully leaning against Brian or Deacy. He sat for the entirety of _ White Queen, _and during Brian’s guitar solos he chugged his way through most of their water. The heat really was suffocating.

But all told, it was one hell of a show. Branson would later happily report that 150,000 people were in attendance. 

Roger instantly rushed to his side when the show ended, wrapping an arm around him, walking back to centre stage. The four of them clasped hands as they bowed- well, Freddie bowed as best he could, and even give a mock curtsey which got some laughs. 

_ “Congratulations!” _a man in the front row shouted. Freddie waved at him, and the man waved back with both hands. 

“Fantastic boys,” Branson said, beaming with approval. Dominique handed Freddie some water.

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I’m fine, dear, thank you,” Freddie said. Miami made some disapproving tutting noises, ordering their team to keep everyone else back while they made their way back to their little trailer. Once the door was closed, Freddie flopped down gratefully. Deacy took a small wet towel from Ratty and dabbed at Freddie’s face.

“There’s showers, isn’t there?” Freddie asked, fighting back a sudden yawn.

“There is,” Crystal confirmed. “I’ll find some towels.” He rushed off, while Roger practically pulled Freddie onto his lap, running a hand through his hair.

“Safe to say we killed it,” Brian said.

“As always,” Freddie said, smiling. He batted Deacy’s hands away. “Darling, please, I’m _ alright. _”

“Knock-knock!” came Branson’s voice. He opened the door and popped his head in. “Are you lads still okay to attend the after-party?”

They all looked to Freddie. Hands still on his stomach, Freddie nodded. They’d better at least show their faces.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“I make my money, and I write the cheques, so say my name with a little respect. All my girls successful, and you're just our guest. Do I really need to say it? Do I need to say it again, yeah? You better stop the sweet talk, and keep your pretty mouth shut. Boy, don't call me angel, you ain't got me right. Don't call me angel, you can't pay my price.” -Don’t Call Me Angel, _ ** **Ariana Grande, Miley Cyrus and Lana Del Rey**

The party was held at a venue called _ Purple Twilight. _The name was probably best suited to a club, but they’d known beforehand that it was one of those fancy (and rather snobby) dinner and cocktail do's. They had another band playing classical music on a little stage, and the entire decour consisted of varying shades of purple, silver and pink. 

The portions of food were sure to be tiny, Roger knew. They always were at this sort of thing. Hopefully the drinks would be good.

He and his boys were all in black suits, but Freddie (to his surprise) had gone for a more traditional Omega coat; it flared out at his hips and trailed to the ground. He’d only seen Freddie wear traditional Omega suits twice before now. It was surprising, but Roger couldn’t deny it suited him. Add on the diamond necklace and matching rings, and Roger was, as ever, having a hard time looking away from him.

Freddie, being the little shit that he was, slowly looked Roger up and down with a smirk. 

“Still feeling that side effect?” Roger asked hopefully.

“Hm…” Freddie’s smile widened, but he laughingly dodged Roger’s hands, biting his lip coyly. He winked and pranced ahead to link arms with Deacy.

“Fucking minx,” Roger muttered. He looked up and caught Brian’s amused eyes.

“Shut up,” Roger told him. 

Brian just kept smirking. “I didn’t say anything, Rog.”

“Shut up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


God but these things got boring fast. Freddie idly stirred his ice water with his straw, listening to the band with half an ear. They’d already played this song, and it was very pretty, but he was knackered. The portions had been tiny, which all four of them rolled their eyes at. They’d devoured the basket of bread, but poor Deacy had choked on the garlic-butter. It was strong by anyone’s standards, and there was some weird leafy green thing in the paté, but it tasted surprisingly good.

The cocktails looked _ fantastic, _and Freddie couldn’t help but pout as everyone else around him drank. Roger ordered a cocktail, but he only took one sip- he looked at Freddie and pushed the drink away. To his surprise, Brian and Deacy didn’t order anymore after their first either.

“Darlings, you can drink,” Freddie said. “I don’t-”

“We can,” Brian agreed. “But we won’t. You look miserable, Fred.”

“And misery loves company,” Deacy added with a smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As much as these fancy dinners could grate on Freddie’s nerves, he still managed to enjoy himself...But if one more middle-aged or elderly Alpha called him _ sweetheart _in that condescending tone, or patted his head like he was a child, he’d scream.

“Congratulations, Roger,” an executive said, shaking Roger’s hand. “He’s lovely.”

“Er- cheers.” Roger’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly vanished behind his hair.

Rolling his eyes, Freddie excused himself to the bathroom. 

There was no one else there, and Freddie briefly closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, both hands on his stomach.

“Don’t you look beautiful tonight?”

His eyes snapped open, his blood turned to ice.

Norman Sheffield was standing in the doorway.

Every instinct screamed at Freddie to run, to get as far away from Sheffield as he could. Sheffield looked as perfectly polished as ever, looking vaguely amused when his eyes landed on Freddie’s stomach.

That did it. Bristling, close to snarling, Freddie stood as tall as he could, both hands still resting protectively on his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed.

“Manners,” Sheffield tutted. He stepped closer. “Every big name in the business is here, my dear. Besides…” His smile widened tauntingly. “I wanted to see how my old signing was doing. Your album proved to be popular. Even that nonsense song of yours did well. Seems your tour was a hit.”

“It was,” Freddie said haughtily.

Sheffield shook his head. He reached out to touch Freddie’s hair, but Freddie quickly dodged around him, all but leaping to the door. 

“You could have done well if you’d simply stayed with us,” Sheffield said. “We’d have managed you better.”

“Not a chance,” Freddie said. He opened the door, not once turning away from Sheffield, keeping his suspicious gaze on him. “And never again.” Openly snarling now, he added viciously, _"Stay the hell away from me."_

He ran before Sheffield could do anything, and stubbornly ignored Sheffield calling his name.

His boys took one look at him and knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” Brian asked. Roger was already on his feet.

Shakily, Freddie said “Sheffield’s here.” He hated, absolutely _ hated _how that bastard still had the power to frighten him, but seeing him brought everything flooding back. The discimination, the humiliation, the abuse, the miscarriage. It even brought Ridge Farm to mind, because Sheffield and Foster had clearly thought the whole situation was Freddie’s fault.

_ “What?” _Roger growled. Brian and Deacy stood, Brian looking around with a frown, easily peering over the tops of everyone’s heads.

“Shit,” he said. “I can see Foster too.”

“We’re out of here,” Roger declared. He looked murderous, pulling Freddie close against him, snarling at the room as a whole. “We’re not staying with those fuckers are here. Come on, let’s go.”

Deacy stopped off to inform Branson they were leaving; other than that, they quickly left. Thankfully, no one stopped them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie would have expected that to be the end of it, but two days later, a large package arrived in the post, addressed to him.

He opened it to find two boxes: the first contained a teardrop-shaped diamond pendant on a bright gold chain. The second contained a gold circlet, studded with tiny diamonds.

Among all the red tissue paper was a note.

  
_ A beautiful gift for a beautiful Omega. _ _   
_ _ Congratulations to you and Roger on the baby. _ _   
_ _ We need to talk. _   
_-Norman Sheffield_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Fluff time! Fluff, fluff, fluff!  
Also Me: But what if Sheffield and Foster turn up?
> 
> Whoops? 😂


	42. Never Be What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Roger get some good news; meanwhile, EMI continues to push them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas (eve) to those that celebrate it; to those that don't, I hope you get to kick back and enjoy some time off!
> 
> Here's some baby content, as well as EMI being pushy bastards.

**June 22nd, 1976**  
** _“Dance for me, dance for me, dance for me, oh-oh-oh. I've never seen anybody do the things you do before. They say move for me, move for me, move for me, eh-eh-eh. And when you're done I'll make you do it all again. They say dance for me, dance for me, dance for me.” -Dance Monkey, _ ** **Tones And I**

Needless to say, Roger was _ pissed. _

Freddie ran straight to him, pale as a sheet and shoved the jewellery and note into Roger’s arms.

“Toss it,” Roger snarled. “All of it, just fucking _ dump _it.” He looked at the necklace and circlet, and he wished he could melt it down. Chop it up into tiny pieces. Completely destroy it.

_ Who the fuck did Sheffield think he was? _

But instead, Freddie took a pen and scribbled over the whole note, so violently that the pen tore through the paper in places. He shoved the jewellery back into its boxes, and he sent it back to EMI, and just barely talked Roger down from storming into EMI and confronting Sheffield in person.

He still agreed to call Brian and Deacy. Brian insisted they call Miami and Reid, which was how they found themselves crowded in Miami’s office.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Miami’s face could have been carved from stone.

“You did the right thing, Freddie,” he said. “You’re under no obligation to listen to Sheffield.”

“Shouldn’t we at least see what he wants?” Reid asked. 

“He wants _ us, _ ” Freddie scoffed. “He wants _ Queen _back.”

“Money,” Brian said, eyes narrowed. “It’s always about money with him. I’ll bet you anything Foster’s involved too.”

“I’ll call them,” Miami offered. “I can tell them you’re not interested.”

“Would it really be so bad to hear them out?” Reid folded his arms, frowning at them all, but the _ Queen _boys rounded on him furiously.

_ “Yes,” _they all snarled.

“I’m not going anywhere near them,” Freddie said. He could feel the baby shifting, and his hands went to his stomach. There was no way in hell he was going anywhere near EMI again, and he _ especially _wasn’t letting them near his baby. 

“I don’t care how much they offer us,” Deacy said. “It’s not worth it.”

“They wouldn’t stick to their promises anyway,” Brian added. “They never have, they never will.”

Miami nodded, hands clasped. “I’ll call them,” he promised. “I’ll tell them to leave you boys alone.”

Freddie couldn’t help but feel reassured. If anyone would look after them, it was Miami. Fuck Sheffield. Fuck Foster. Freddie had more important things to think about.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Think you left me broken down, think that I'd come running back. Baby, you don't know me, 'cause you're dead wrong. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller; doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone. What doesn't kill you makes a fighter, footsteps even lighter. Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone.” -Stronger, _ ** **Kelly Clarkson**  
  
The next day, he and Roger had an appointment with Kevin. Neither of them had slept all that well the night before, too wound up over EMI, worrying if they’d listen to Miami and back off. So they were both yawning for most of the appointment while Freddie listed his symptoms off: nausea, drowsiness and back aches being the chief among them.

It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse, and he knew it. He just pushed it firmly out of his mind. He was fine. He was further along than he’d gotten with Heydar, and nothing was wrong. It would work out this time. 

It had to. It just had to, because Freddie didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.

“We can tell the sex,” Kevin said brightly, eyeing the scan, and reading through his files. “Do you want to know?”

Freddie was both horribly excited and horribly _ frightened, _but he and Roger had talked about it, and they’d agreed that they wanted to know. Clutching Roger’s hand as tightly as he could, Freddie did his best to just breathe steadily when Roger said, “Yeah, we want to know.”

Kevin smiled at them, closing the files. He tapped the screen and said, “Well then congratulations, lads. You’re having a baby boy.”

On one hand, Freddie was elated. He was so excited he could burst; he wanted to laugh and cheer...And he wanted to cry too.

How terribly familiar. The very words they’d been given shortly before everything went to shit.

A boy. They were having another boy.

Roger breathed out shakily. He was smiling, but Freddie knew him well enough to see the anxious edge to his smile. Roger’s hand went to Freddie’s stomach, awed and terrified.

“Any name ideas?” Freddie asked weakly, but he smiled all the same.

“None,” Roger admitted. “Fucking stumped.”

So it was time to break the books of baby names out again. Okay. Freddie could focus on that; it was something good to think about.

They were having a boy, that was a _ good _thing. That was a wonderful thing. He utterly refused to let anything spoil this now, not even his own anxiety.

  
  
  
  
  
  


For the most part, they had a quiet afternoon. Freddie wondered if they should tell everyone now, or wait a few days. Should they have some sort of dramatic reveal, or just simply say it?

He flicked through a book of baby names, folding down the corners of pages that had names he liked. Ziggy snored next to him on the sofa, Tom and Jerry sat at his feet, two tiny bodyguards, while Roger called Miami.

“He says it went okay,” Roger told him, frowning. “Says Sheffield heard him out and said he wasn’t trying to cause trouble, he just wanted to talk to us about working for EMI again.”

“Fuck that,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. He pursed his lips, eyes rapidly flying over names. “Any names you like, darling?”

“Er...Shit, I just know I want something that stands out,” Roger said, shrugging. “Everyone seems to be picking the same names over and over, it’s- I want something _ unique. _”

“I know what you mean,” Freddie said. He held up the book. “And half of these sound like old-man names.”

“Fair enough,” Roger laughed. He lifted Ziggy up, ignoring the old cat’s indignant hiss, and sat next to Freddie, holding Ziggy on his lap. “Feeling any particular letters?”

“What do you mean, darling?”

“Like, do you prefer H names, or A names. What do you want it to start with?”

“Oh.” Freddie blinked at him, looking back at the book. “Hm...I’m not sure.”

“Something will jump out at us eventually,” Roger said. “If you can write _ Bohemian Rhapsody _you can name our son.”

_ Our son. _Freddie would be lying if he said the words didn’t bring a smile to his face. He leaned against Roger and said, “And if you can sit in a cupboard for hours you can find a name too.” He shoved the book into Roger’s hands. “You look for a while, I need a break before I drive myself insane.”

  
  
  
  
  


** _“And here's the part where I started to make my own damn decisions, and make a name for myself. I'll never be what you want, I wouldn't change any part of me, just to make you stay. You had a piece of my heart, but not enough to just run away, ‘cause I know what's best for me. Take all your big plans and throw them away. I've got something in mind before we go separate ways. We ask the questions, baby, who provides the answers?” -Never Be What You Want, _ ** **We Are The In Crowd**

  
  


He nearly forgot about EMI. With Miami jumping in straight away, he’d hoped that was it. They were done. They’d said no.

But the very next day, there was a knock on their door. When Freddie answered it, he was met by an overwhelmed-looking delivery man. He was weighed down by a huge bouquet of different coloured roses. At his feet were more packages; three were addressed to Freddie, one was addressed to Roger.

“...Let me guess,” Freddie said flatly. “From Norman Sheffield?”

“And Ray Foster,” the delivery man confirmed. Roger came up behind Freddie and instantly tensed, laying a protective hand on his shoulder.

“We told them to fuck off,” Roger snapped.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m just under orders to deliver them.”

Sighing, Roger took the bouquet. The delivery man stooped down to grab the packages; at Roger’s nod he came in to put them down on the coffee table. He nodded to Roger, wished them both a good day, and left.

“They’ve got to be _ fucking kidding, _ ” Roger seethed. His fists were clenched, he was already going red, glaring at the gifts- _ bribes- _like they were dangerous.

Freddie opened the little card on the flowers: _ “Congratulations on the baby. -Ray.” _ He was willing to bet his entire paycheck that Sheffield had made Foster sign that card. He highly doubted Foster had put a penny towards any of this, not unless he was convinced it would bring him _ more _money in the end.

The parcels contained the very circlet and necklace he’d sent back, and now a matching pair of bangles. For Roger, they’d sent a pair of black diamond cufflinks. 

The notes were signed by both of them this time. More rubbish about Freddie being beautiful (which made his skin crawl), praising him for _ Bohemian Rhapsody, _ which nearly made him laugh. _ Nearly. _He felt sick.

Roger tore his note to shreds, rolled it up in a little ball and threw it in the bin.

“They can’t seriously think this will _ work, _” Freddie said, eyeing it all dubiously. Most of it was aimed at him, and it clicked: they thought he was the weakest link. They thought he’d be the easiest to win over, or manipulate.

_ Not a fucking chance, _he thought furiously. 

The phone rang, and Freddie brushed past Roger to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Fred!” It was Brian. “Fucking hell. _ Please _tell me you two got sent more rubbish from EMI as well.”

“You too, huh?” Freddie asked, sighing.

“And Deacy,” Brian confirmed. “They asked to speak to me _ Alpha to Alpha. _” The disgust was obvious in his voice. “They sent some tie pins to me and a brooch to Deacy.”

“More jewellery for me,” Freddie said. “Cufflinks for Rog, and flowers for both of us.”

“This is ridiculous,” Brian said.

“What’s he saying?” Roger asked.

“He says this is ridiculous, darling,” Freddie told him. He frowned at the flowers and open boxes, and passed the phone to Roger. As his boyfriend ranted to Brian, Freddie looked around, arms folded, frown deepening. Would this just keep going until they gave in? Surely this counted as harrassment? 

Not yet maybe. But if it continued…

Roger hung up, running his hands through his hair. “Right. Bugger this. We’ve all got to meet with Miami again. Reid can come or stay away, I don’t care, but we’ll probably need Miami’s help with this.”

Before Freddie could answer, there was a sharp nudge. For a moment, he froze, petrified- but then it happened again, not so bad, and he could feel the baby moving…

_ Oh, _he thought, and his hands flew to his stomach.

“Rog,” he said, breathless, grinning, eyes stinging. “Roggie, the baby’s kicking. Kicking _ properly _I mean, you can feel it, I- here, come here!” He grabbed Roger’s hand, placing it on his stomach, and there was that nudge again, that little kick.

“Holy shit,” Roger breathed. He crouched down, eye level with Freddie’s stomach, both hands on it now, next to Freddie’s. “Hey you,” he said, beaming. “Doing okay in there?”

“He’s okay,” Freddie said. He felt giddy, nearly laughing from sheer joy. “He’s….He’s safe.”

And he was going to _ stay _safe. Freddie wouldn’t let EMI stress him out and fuck with his head. They weren’t going to put his son at risk. He was keeping this baby safe, no matter what.

And if EMI didn’t get out of his way, he’d see them crumble for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I'm thinking of making a tumblr specifically for this whole A/B/O world where I'd take prompts, requests and any questions you might have. Lemme know if anyone's interested 😊
> 
> Next up, some more EMI drama, more baby content (such as name choosing) and the boys beginning their next album.


	43. You Should See Me In A Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen boys strike back against EMI once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, I made a tumblr for this entire series! Not just this Froger story, but the entire "I Lay My Life Before You" series; if anyone has any questions, requests or prompts, throw 'em at me!
> 
> https://i-lay-my-life-before-queen.tumblr.com/  
Come yell at me!
> 
> On with the chapter: the Queen boys make a very public strike...

**_“You should see me in a crown. I'm gonna run this nothing town. Watch me make 'em bow, one by one by one. One by one by- You should see me in a crown. Your silence is my favorite sound. Watch me make 'em bow, one by one by one. One by one by...one.” -You Should See Me In A Crown, _ ** **Billie Eilish**

Over the next few days, Miami and Reid once more contacted EMI with strict orders to leave _ Queen _alone. Miami informed Horace, who immediately called Sheffield himself.

The boys weren’t there for it, but Miami told them that Horace- usually so amicable- was so incensed that the phone call quickly turned into a screaming match.

“They have a contract,” Horace had pointed out icily after all the yelling. “They have a new label. They’re with _ us. _”

“Contracts can be made null,” Sheffield had said in return. “And if we pay enough, I’m sure Mr. Jones can be persuaded to let them go.” 

“Maybe so. But you won’t persuade those boys to sign a contract with you again in a million years,” Horace had snapped, and slammed the phone down.

Well, Horace had been right about that. There was no way that _ Queen _would ever set foot in EMI again.

But Sheffield called again and again- and Reid, to their mounting fury, agreed to a meeting.

“We don’t want anything to do with them,” Brian snapped. He had to clench his fists to stop them shaking. He’d _ liked _ Reid, but he wasn’t so sure now. “How- _ why _would you do that? They treated us like shit!”

“You can go to EMI by yourself,” Freddie said, his hands on his stomach. He looked _ murderous. _“Because, darling, there’s no way we are.”

Brian was tempted, so very tempted to threaten to fire Reid. He reigned himself in with great difficulty. Fire Reid in anger and they’d regret it. They had to be rational, to keep calm. EMI would _ want _them to be pissed; if they were angry, they’d be more likely to make mistakes.they had to keep calm. EMI would want them to be pissed. If they were angry, they were more likely to make mistakes. 

Even so, it was a struggle to stay calm.

“It won’t be in EMI,” Reid said. “It’ll be in my office.”

Deacy just glowered at him, arms folded. Roger looked seconds away from breaking something.

Freddie spoke up quickly. “We’re bringing Miami and Horace.”

Reid sighed at them, but he couldn’t very well tell them no. It was either that, or they wouldn’t turn up at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June 30th...**

It was one of the most awkward meetings of Brian’s life.

Sheffield swept into Reid’s office like he owned the place, as immaculately put together as always. Foster followed at his heels, in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt and his usual sunglasses.

Sheffield shook Reid’s hand and turned to Brian, hand held out. Practically holding his breath, Brian didn’t move. Roger sat up straighter, an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. Deacy’s lips were pressed tightly together, eyes sparking.

Miami smirked, but Sheffield’s smile faltered, and Foster already looked furious. Horace smiled mildly, glancing towards the window. 

In bags at their feet, the Queen boys had their “gifts” from EMI. Deacy and Brian gathered them and held them out.

“What’s this?” Sheffield asked, eyebrows raised.

“We’re returning your- ah- gifts personally,” Brian said, sugary-sweet. “Since you keep sending them back.”

“Must be a problem with the post,” Deacy added with a smile. 

“Right,” Foster said. That familiar red flush was starting to show on his cheeks, creeping down his neck- but he and Sheffield had no choice but to take the bribes back, in front of so many witnesses.

“Now,” Sheffield said, pasting a smile on. “About our request-”

“No,” Freddie said. His eyes narrowed. “As we said before: _no._”

“Freddie, my dear-”

“Don’t call him that,” Roger snapped. “He’s not your _anything,_ got it?”

Sheffield took a deep breath, but he managed to keep smiling. “Very well. But boys, we’re being genuine. It would be a joy to work with you all again. You did so well; imagine how much you can grow now.”

“Funny,” Horace drawled. “I’d have said they’ve grown plenty with Lightning.”

“I’d say we have,” Deacy said. “We’re happy where we are.”

“You can try to bribe Walter all you like,” Horace added. “But if the boys say no, you can’t make them do anything.”

“We’re not prizes to be bid on,” Brian said, head held high. “You seem to forget that.”

Sheffield looked to Freddie. The Alpha’s face was totally unreadable, but Foster was looking more and more furious. Finally, Sheffield took a deep breath and said, “We’ll pay you equally. We’ll raise all your salaries and I promise, Freddie, you’ll get the same.”

Shocked silence reigned. Deacy openly gaped, Miami sat up straighter, frowning. 

There was a brief flash of shock on Freddie’s face before he snarled.

_“Liar.”_

“Not at all,” Sheffield said. Huffing, Foster nodded.

“Equal pay,” he muttered. “Same as the other three.”

Brian didn’t believe a word of it. Looking around, it didn’t seem like any of them did.

“I don’t believe you,” Freddie said. “And even if I did, the money isn’t worth it. You treated me like _dirt._”

“We treated you like an _Omega,_” Foster snapped. “God, what’s _wrong_ with you? No Omegas get equal pay, this is the best offer you’ll ever get!”

_“Ray.”_ Sheffield glared at him. “Calm down.”

“Call me crazy,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. “But I don’t much fancy going through more abuse.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Sheffield said. “It wasn’t-”

“Want to bet?” Miami asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve had this conversation before, Norman.”

Foster was bright red by now, Roger had that familiar cocky grin on his face.

“Like we’ve been saying all along- _no._ No way. Not happening.” His grin widened. “You can take your lies and shove it. We don’t owe you shit.”

“No,” Deacy said. “And no again.”

“Not in a million years,” Brian said. “We’re happy where we are.”

“What the hell made you think we’d believe you?” Freddie asked, still tucked under Roger’s arm. “After everything?” He shook his head, holding his hand up for silence when Foster opened his mouth. “Foster, I swear to God, if you start your sexist rubbish, I will walk right back out that door.”

“You damn-”

“Shut up,” Freddie said tiredly. “God, you just- both of you leave us alone. We want nothing to do with you, how many times do we have to say it?” He glared at Reid. “And don’t think _you’re_ off the hook. What were you _thinking?_”

Reid at least had the grace to look chastened.

“Keep it up and you’ll find yourself charged with harassment,” Miami said calmly, to which Sheffield and Foster finally looked worried. But there were icy looks in their eyes that put Brian on edge. 

“Well,” Roger said. “We’re done here.” He stood, holding onto Freddie’s hand. Brian and Deacy stood with them, and this time Brian was the one who led the way out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Now payback is a bad bitch and, baby, I'm the baddest. You're fuckin' with a savage. Can't have this, can't have this; and it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah. Baby, I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry). Baby, I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry). Being so bad got me feelin' so good, showing you up like I knew that I would. Baby, I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry). Baby, I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry). Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned, yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns.” -Sorry Not Sorry, _ ** **Demi Lovato**

Freddie knew EMI didn’t take kindly to being told _ no. _Sheffield and Foster were two Alphas all too used to getting their way. They were always unquestionably in charge.

So he wasn’t surprised when one more parcel arrived three days later.

It was another necklace. A dark red velvet collar, studded with tiny diamonds, the classic white diamonds, and black ones. But on the front, made of yet more diamonds, was the Omega symbol.

This time the note merely said _ Remember your place. _It was signed by both of them this time.

For a second, Freddie considered hiding it. Roger would utterly lose it. _ Everyone _would utterly lose it.

But the baby kicked and Freddie _ thought. _ Sheffield and Foster constantly insisted they hadn’t abused him. Miami had once coldly said that the public would _ flip _if EMI’s treatment of him got out. 

Sheffield and Foster thought they were so untouchable, and Freddie knew a threat when he read it. He wasn’t stupid. EMI wouldn’t stop unless they _ made _them stop.

Freddie knew plenty of people would insist it wasn’t abuse. There were so many people who would say that, since Freddie was an Omega, the Alphas in charge were well within their rights to do whatever they wanted to him. Freddie had almost no protection under the law, and he _ did _sign a contract.

But there were also plenty of people, a slowly growing number, who would be on his side. There were more and more protests for Omega rights every day. And Freddie _ knew _he was popular.

One more kick, and his hands went to his stomach.

Well. Maybe some old-fashioned thinking would be to his advantage. A pregnant Omega citing abuse? There’d be uproar.

Freddie was small. He was popular. He was _ pregnant, _and right now his scent proclaimed to the world that he had to be protected while he protected the life growing inside of him. He knew how to cause a scene, how to manipulate a crowd to get what he wanted.

Freddie smiled down at his stomach.

“Would you like to help me cause some trouble, my love?” he asked. Another kick was his answer, and Freddie laughed.

He normally did his best to avoid interviews, but in this case he sought one out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July 7th, BBC Studios, London England…**

Freddie had sworn to himself that he’d watch EMI crumble for good if they didn’t back off. He’d watch them burn if he must, and he’d damn well _ relish _it.

This was a risk, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

He’d protect himself, his boys, and his baby. To do that...Well, he simply had to tell the truth.

Freddie and the boys arrived together, with Miami waiting in the wings. In his pocket, Freddie had the red collar and note. Roger had indeed lost his mind when he saw it: he’d wanted to throw it in the bin, to burn it, to march into EMI and “shove it up their arses!” 

He’d just _ barely _calmed down when Freddie quickly explained his idea. 

Miami had been wary, but after careful consideration, after looking at all the options, they decided to go ahead.

Their interviewers were a pair of Betas, a man named Daniel and a woman named Leia. They were both somewhere in their thirties if Freddie had to take a guess, both blonde with perfect showman grins.

It started off simply, with questions about their next album.

“We’re due to start working on it by the end of the week,” Brian said. “We’ve already got some rough drafts for songs.”

“Any particular themes?” Leia asked.

“Oh, not particularly,” Brian said with a shrug. He smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Freddie sat there, all but holding his breath, his hand holding tightly to the collar and note in his pocket. They needed an opportunity to steer the conversation towards EMI, or Omegas, _ anything _that would let them discuss EMI’s harassment. 

For a while, they asked questions about Brian’s engagement (which he gave only short answers to) and Freddie’s pregnancy (which he tried not to answer at all).

But then, _ finally, _just as Freddie was wondering if they should bring it up themselves, Daniel asked about leaving EMI.

“You’re with Lightning Records now,” he said. “How has that been for you?”

“Much better,” Roger said. “We actually feel listened to, for one. Their contract is much more fair, and we get along with Horace well.”

“Do you miss EMI at all? There’s rumours going around that they want you back.”

At that, Freddie laughed. “Not in the least,” he said. He took a deep breath, felt the baby moving, and said, “I don’t miss constantly being harassed. I don’t miss being forced into a nude photoshoot because I stuck up for myself.” Roger held his hand, and Freddie pushed forward; “I don’t miss being groped and pushed around. I don’t miss being screamed at and called awful names every other minute. I don’t miss having executives ask Roger to _ borrow _me.”

“I- pardon?” Daniel was gaping, eyes ready to pop out of his head. Leia had a hand pressed over her mouth, glancing worriedly at Roger.

“They did,” Roger confirmed, openly snarling. “I’d have men I didn’t even know offer to pay me to sleep with him; some of them said I could _ watch _if it made me feel better.”

“And- and that nude photoshoot...You didn’t agree to that?” Leia asked.

“No,” Freddie said. “I didn’t.”

“Originally it was just going to be Freddie,” Brian said. “They didn’t want any of us involved. It was because Freddie told Sheffield and Foster to stop talking over him, and to not be rude to Deacy. So I went to our manager, Reid, and suggested we _ all _pose nude. I said it would up the sales.”

The interviewers just looked paler and paler. Leia even looked a little tearful.

“They leaked my last pregnancy to the press,” Freddie said viciously. “And we still have the tape to prove it.”

“They wanted my permission to be in charge of the announcement,” Roger said. “They wanted to arrange another nude photoshoot. So long as they had my permission they wouldn’t need Freddie’s.” His glare deepened into something truly frightening. “I would never have said yes anyway, but after the way they treated him at the ‘shoot? No chance in hell.”

Daniel gulped, looking reluctant to ask, but he did anyway. “And...And how did they treat you, Freddie?”

“Oh, let’s see...I was the only Omega in a room full of Alphas for a start,” he said, snarling himself. “Any time I had to change my pose _ someone _ would grab me. I heard one assistant dare another to _ check if I was wet. _Too many people grabbed my ass for me to count, honestly. Everyone was either laughing or making these awful jokes, and talking about what they’d like to do to me, and a...certain someone tried to follow me into the changing room.”

“So all those photos you lot collect or ask him to sign? Yeah, he was near tears when most of those were taken.” Roger’s eyes narrowed as he looked straight into the camera. “Not so sexy now, huh?”

“As for them wanting us back,” Deacy said. “Of course they do. They took all our money for themselves.”

Gritting his teeth, Freddie held out the collar and note. “And they won’t take no for an answer.”

Daniel took the note; hand shaking, Leia took the collar.

“It’s the Omega symbol,” she murmured.

_ “Remember your place,” _ Daniel read. _ “Norman and Ray.” _

“They think they can bully me into compliance,” Freddie said. “But not this time.” His hands went to his stomach, and he let his voice shake, lightly bowing his head as he added, “I can’t let them do this again. I won’t risk the baby’s safety by letting them stress me out so much.”

At that, both interviewers instantly softened. Roger held him closer, Brian snarled and Deacy sat up straighter. 

“So to make a long story short,” Roger said with an icy smile. “No, we don’t miss EMI at all.”

“We don’t take bribes and threats lightly,” Brian added. 

The whole set was silent. Everyone was gaping, horrified or merely curious, shocked, and some were even tearful.

Freddie had to duck his head to hide his triumphant smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Back in the dressing room, Freddie let rip and finally laughed. Miami clapped Deacy on the back, Roger let out a triumphant whoop and Brian sat back with a smug grin.

“I think that went well,” Deacy said.

“God I wish I could see the looks on those fuckers’ faces!” Roger said, laughing as hard as Freddie. “Foster might give himself a heart-attack!”

“We can only hope,” Brian said, still grinning.

“It was risky,” Miami said. “And they’ll try to disprove everything you just said, but we have the tape, we have too many witnesses on our side. It won’t exactly make them retire, but it’ll be enough to make them back off.”

Sheffield and Foster retiring from the music business. God, Freddie wished. Every Omega trying to make it in this business would be a lot safer with two less abusers around.

But he was safe now. He looked at the collar and held it out to Miami. “Get rid of it, darling,” he said. “Burn it, cut it into ribbons, send it back to them, I don’t care. Just get it out of my sight.”

Miami took it with a smile, eyes glinting. “Gladly, Fred.”

Freddie sat next to Brian, sighing in relief. The baby was kicking, and Brian squeezed his shoulder, smiling proudly.

“You’re so brave, you know that?” Brian asked.

“We all are,” Freddie said, leaning against him. Roger knelt in front of him and rested a hand on Freddie’s stomach, beaming when he felt the kicks himself. Deacy sat on Brian’s other side, looking relieved and knackered. 

“Right,” Miami said, smiling at them all. “Dinner’s on me, boys.”

“Brilliant,” Roger said happily. “You can all listen to me and Fred bitch about baby names.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's one pack you don't want to mess with.
> 
> Next time we'll be moving forward with Freddie's pregnancy: the baby name, some album content, and HOPEFULLY moving towards the birth. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 💕


	44. Fight Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The public blows up after Queen's tell-all, but the boys are moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys deserve to ride high on victory for a while, okay? 😂
> 
> For anyone that's interested, I've started a tumblr for this whole A/B/O world: i-lay-my-life-before-queen

** _“'Cause I, I cannot start to crumble. So come on and try, try to shut me and cut me down. I won't be silenced! You can't keep me quiet, won't tremble when you try it. All I know is I won't go speechless, speechless! Let the storm in, I cannot be broken. No, I won't live unspoken, ‘cause I know that I won't go speechless.” -Speechless, _ ** **Naomi Scott**

As anyone could have predicted, _ everything blew up. _ Sheffield and Foster were threatening to sue, the press was in utter mayhem; there was a fucking _ protest. _Fans came out and blamed EMI for Freddie’s miscarriage.

Really, they took the words right out of Roger’s mouth.

Horace got a good laugh out of it anyway.

“Norman keeps calling and screaming at me,” he said with a grin, his bushy moustache seemingly twitching when he did. “Seems to think I ought to keep you four in line.”

“We’re trouble,” Roger acknowledged with a grin of his own. “Sure you can handle us?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ve had worse.” 

Honestly, Roger couldn’t quite believe the uproar. Sure, they all knew EMI would lose its collective shit, but...But the _ press, _ and by God the _ fans. _ Of course, there were people on EMI’s side. People who pointed out again and again that Freddie was an Omega, so what did it _ matter? _

And yet, there were plenty of people on their side.

As the boys left the Lightning building, reporters swarmed them. Security rushed forward to hold them back, escorting them through the crowd, Miami and Reid bringing up the rear. Roger held onto Freddie, glaring around at the fucking _ vultures _surrounding them.

“Roger! Roger, do you blame EMI for the loss of your baby?”

“Freddie, did Norman Sheffield or Ray Foster ever touch you? What about the other executives?”

“Any comment on the rape accusastions against Henry Fitzherbert?”

“Is this why you won’t do any more nude photoshoots, Freddie?”

“Roger, is it true that Sheffield offered you money to sleep with Freddie?”

“Fucking hell,” Brian muttered.

_ Rape accusations, huh? _Roger thought. It didn’t shock him. There’d been such accusations before, and he’d believed them, but they never even made it to court. But this time, it seemed the other victims were being taken more seriously. This time, EMI’s name would get dragged into any accusations going around; if Sheffield or his friends put one toe out of line, the press pounced.

“Alright back it up!” a security guard barked.

“Could I have some air?” Freddie snapped. To Roger’s shock, four of the reporters stepped back, eyeing Freddie’s stomach warily. 

_ Ah. _Scared of getting accusations thrown at them too, he supposed.

None of them commented, of course. They’d said their piece. Interviews? Sure. Getting hounded at work? No thanks. They had some interviews set up; if people wanted more fuel for the fire, they’d simply have to wait.

They all managed to get to their cars. Reid looked around at the crowd of reporters, still being held back and sighed heavily, shaking his head. He hadn’t been happy about being left out.

But as crazy as things were, Roger was elated. EMI was finally _ finally _getting a taste of their own medicine. Some justice was finally done, and Sheffield and Foster could scream about suing all they wanted, but they didn’t have a leg to stand on.

There was no coming back from this. Not this time.

_ Death On Two Legs, _indeed.

_ Burn motherfuckers, burn, _Roger thought, grinning as he finally drove away. He reached out to pat Freddie’s stomach, grinning all the more when he felt the baby kick.

“So,” he said. “Names?”

“Finally found some,” Freddie said happily. “I have four I like.”

“Yeah?” Roger said. “Alright, lay ‘em on me.”

“I like Rueben, Caspian, Romaro and Apollo,” Freddie said, glancing at Roger with that familiar stubborn frown. “Do you have any, darling?”

“Honestly? I’m thinking either Callum or Damian.” They were the only two that had jumped out at him. Trust Freddie to find a longer list. 

“...Brian suggested Apollo, didn’t he?” Roger asked, smirking.

“Oh, of course, darling,” Freddie said, tucking his hair back. “Besides, fits with the theme, right?”

“Theme?”

_ “Mercury.” _

“That’s Roman, not Greek.”

“Oh shut up, the Romans had an Apollo too. Besides, I’m not naming my son _ Phoebus. _”

That was fair. Roger shook his head, squinting at the road. He hadn’t bothered with his glasses again. “Okay...Damian, Caspian or Romaro are my favourites.”

Freddie hummed, tapping at his lips. “Was picking a name always this hard?”

“You nearly tore a book in half last time, sweetheart.”

“Yes, well, _ you _threw one at Deacy.”

“Yeah,” Roger acknowledged. “That I did.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They had ten messages when they got home, each from a newspaper, magazine, radio show or TV show, all looking for interviews. Roger wondered about deleting them, but left it for now. Who knew, there might be some good deals hidden in there.

He could hardly be blamed for enjoying this. They’d well and truly fucked with EMI’s image, and those bastards deserved it. Hell, they’d walked right into it.

Underestimating _ Queen _would always be a mistake.

_ Sue us and we’ll sue right back, _ Roger thought, because they _ could, _they really could, this time they’d struck first; this time there wasn’t much EMI could do, beyond scramble to save face.

But for now he could focus on happier things.

He looked at Freddie, lounging on the sofa with the cats. Tom was asleep on Freddie’s stomach, Jerry kept sniffing the baby bump and meowing. Ziggy slept by Freddie’s head, snoring. Freddie looked close to falling asleep himself, eyes drooping, the hand stroking over the baby bump slowing.

_ I want to marry you, _ Roger thought, and he smiled, unable to help it. The thought was there, firmly there, rooted in him. _ I want to marry you. _Why the fuck not? Why shouldn’t they? 

A tiny part of him wanted to ask there and then. Instead, he said, “Freddie? You awake?”

Freddie hummed, cracking an eye open, and Roger grinned at him.

“I like Caspian.”

Freddie smiled sleepily, closing his eyes again. “Me too,” he mumbled, and was asleep in seconds.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“This is my fight song, take back my life song, prove I'm alright song. My power's turned on, starting right now I'll be strong. I'll play my fight song. And I don't really care if nobody else believes, ‘cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me.” -Fight Song, _ ** **Rachel Platten**

Freddie had been surprised by everyone’s reactions to _ Queen’s _not-so-little tell all. He’d made a gamble, and it had paid off. He knew it could have gone badly.

Instead, the fans rose up like an army, ready to fight and defend. There were protests outside of EMI, people with signs and chants demanding that EMI shut down. They called for compensation, for arrests. A few people threw rocks at the windows. Freddie _ had _ to laugh at that one.

And then there’d been their families.

He’d been fucking _ shocked _ when his parents turned up. He’d expected a lecture, victim blaming- _ something. _Their usual.

Instead, Bomi hugged him tightly.

“My poor boy,” Bomi said hoarsely. He looked fucking _ sickened _when Freddie glanced up at him. He held onto Freddie as tightly as he could, given the bump in the way. “It’s okay,” Bomi added, as Freddie had only just fled from Sheffield and Foster moments ago. “It’s okay, child. You’re safe now.”

Freddie only nodded, letting them fuss. There was no point in saying he was okay, that he knew he was safe. They simply wouldn’t hear it. And besides...If he was honest, he...He kind of liked having them on his side. It was new, and it was weird, but it wasn’t a _ bad _thing.

Winifred cried. She phoned them and cried for ages, until Freddie felt dangerously close to tears himself. Even Roger looked tearful, actually _ shaking _as Winifred sobbed.

Mary and Elton barged in together, the day after the announcement, with Bernie at their heels, an unlikely trio.

_ “You,” _Elton said, pointing around at Freddie, Roger, Brian and Deacy. “You’re some brave little fuckers, you know that?” Mary clung to Freddie, burying her face in his shoulder, doing her best not to cry. Bernie clapped Brian and Deacy on the shoulder, smiling grimly.

“Well it’s their own fault,” Freddie had said, running a hand through Mary’s hair. “We told them to fuck off.”

Mary giggled shakily, Elton beamed at them all, and Bernie sat next to Deacy, grinning and shaking his head.

“Let me guess,” Bernie said. “Your idea, Fred?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Freddie said, batting his eyelashes. “I’m just an Omega, darling, I can’t think, remember?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Despite the chaos, Freddie felt safe. They’d blown it all wide open, and despite Sheffield and Foster’s threats, nothing had really _ come _ of it. Their lawyers were trying to make a case, but _ Queen _ had their own backup too. This time, they were on equal footing- no, this time _ Queen _were on top.

And then, during a meeting with Horace, Reid and Miami, they got another update: Philip, the head of security at EMI had been fired.

Freddie wished he could say he was surprised, but of course Sheffield was taking his anger out on his staff. Of course Philip, who’d given _ Queen _the tape that proved Sheffield leaked Freddie’s first pregnancy to the press, got the brunt of it.

Freddie couldn’t help but feel bad. 

He pulled his boys into a huddle. “I’m not surprised, darlings,” he said, too quietly for Horace, Reid or Miami to hear. “Philip helped us out, of course Sheffield booted him out.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t sooner,” Deacy said, scowling.

“Well we were still _ there _last time,” Brian said. “It would have been obvious if Sheffield had fired him for helping us.”

“Pathetic bastard,” Roger scoffed.

“He could work with us,” Freddie said. “Philip, I mean.”

The boys didn’t look too surprised by his suggestion. Brian smiled fondly, Deacy nodded and said, “Fine by me.” 

Roger shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “We can offer anyway.”

They turned back to the waiting Alphas. Miami looked faintly amused, Horace was openly smiling, Reid was torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Philip can work for us,” Freddie announced, hands on his hips. “We could always use more security.”

“I’ll give him a call,” Reid agreed.

(Needless to say, Philip was pretty ecstatic by the offer.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Hold on tight to this rollercoaster ride, and if you're loving this just give me one more kiss, ‘cause you ain't seen nothing yet. Just let go, if you don't, we'll never know. So if you're loving this just give me one more kiss, ‘cause you ain't seen nothing yet.” -You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet, _ ** **Avril Lavigne**

And in the midst of it all, they started their next album.

Freddie couldn’t say recording while pregnant was a walk in the park, but he honestly expected it to be worse. At least no one complained when he rested. Ratty was under strict orders from Deacy to be at Freddie’s beck and call (poor lad), while Roy constantly asked if Freddie needed more water, or more ice; did he need to rest his voice at all?

At least it wasn’t as crazy as _ A Night At The Opera _ had been. By contrast, they’d quickly come up with the name _ A Day At The Races, _laughing like school boys.

And Freddie quickly penned _ You Take My Breath Away. _The tune came to him quickly, so did the chorus, but it was the verses that were causing him difficulty. This was another one that he wanted to be perfect.

He was sitting on one of the sofas, watching as Roger sang a few verses of his new song, _ Drowse. _ His boyfriend was grinning, hopping in place, so proud of himself, excited to throw himself into work, and Freddie _ knew _he was smiling like a sap. He couldn’t seem to help it.

The baby, little Caspian, shifted and kicked, and Freddie rested a hand on his stomach as he watched Roger and Brian laughingly go through vocal exercises, messing with _ Drowse’s _chorus. 

“I’ll let you in on a secret, darling,” Freddie whispered to Caspian, oh so quiet, so quiet he could barely even hear himself. “I really want to marry him.”

Caspian kicked even harder, as if in encouragement (or so Freddie liked to think), and his smile widened. Well. It was an idea.

He’d file it away for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the baby's name is Caspian! Our little man will be here soon.


	45. Saturn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours abound and EMI crumbles before their eyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless self-promotion 😂 I've made a tumblr: i-lay-my-life-before-queen
> 
> If anyone has questions, prompts or requests, or if you just wanna yell about Queen, go right ahead, I'm having a lot of fun so far!

**July 23rd, 1976** **  
** ** _“'Cause you left me scored, I drew the five of swords, and now I'm running, I'm running, I'm coming to bring you down. 'Cause, baby, I'm a liar, I'm a bitch, and you and I have unfinished business. Narcissistic hypocrite, and I'm petty as hell but at least I admit it. Blow my phone up, say I'm crazy; I know what you've called me lately. It's time to burn the witch!” -Burn The Witch, _ ** **Emma Blackery**

They were in the middle of recording _ Somebody To Love _when Miami marched in and tapped Roy on the shoulder. John couldn’t hear him, but Roy’s eyes widened, and he called for Roger, Brian and Freddie to stop singing.

“What’s going on?” John asked. Miami shook his head, but when the other boys joined them, he told them all.

“Henry Fitzherbert’s been charged with rape,” he said. 

“Against who?” Brian asked, eyes wide. 

“The two Omega artists at his company made the charges; a maid that cleans his house, and a waiter from a party he held last month,” Miami said.

“Holy shit,” Roger gasped. Freddie was openly gaping, and John kept shaking his head. He half-expected to wake up. They’d all known Fitzherbert was trouble with a capital T. He was a creep, and they all knew how he treated Omegas. There’d been rumours about him for years; a waitress accused him and his friends of gang-raping her back in 1973, before _ Queen _even joined EMI, but the charges were dropped.

There’d been accusations ever since the boys did that interview, but now it seemed those charges had finally _ stuck. _

“Fucking finally,” Freddie snarked, hands on his stomach. “Everyone knows what he’s like.”

“That’s the good news,” Miami said. “The bad news is the rumours about _ you _ two.” He gestured to Freddie and Roger, and John sighed heavily. Roger groaned “Oh what _ now? _”

“Seems there’s rumours coming from EMI that you _ did _let executives...Ahem- that you let them sleep with Freddie for money, to pay for your flat. And of course, there’s rumours that Sheffield and Freddie are having an affair.” Miami looked highly uncomfortable. “Paul’s been saying he and Freddie had an affair. There’s rumours that the baby is Sheffield’s.”

“He _ wishes, _” Freddie spat, while Roger growled, flushing a worrying shade of red. Brian snarled, and John had a lovely image of smashing Sheffield and Prenter’s faces into the nearest brick wall.

“He wishes,” Miami agreed, rolling his eyes. “We’re working on it, of course. Anyone with a lick of sense sees this for the desperate bid it is. Shefield wants to discredit you by any means necessary. Thankfully, most people see right through it. As for Paul- people don’t know much about him. They’re more inclined to hear him out. So...What would you like to do? We could pay him off…”

“We have an interview in two days,” John said. “We could…” He glanced at Freddie. “Well, we could tell the truth again. About the Farm.”

Freddie paled drastically, and John could have kicked himself.

“It could work,” Miami agreed. “We could contact the officers that interviewed you, and the doctors.”

“No way,” Roger growled. “Absolutely not.”

But Freddie took a deep breath. “Maybe...Maybe it’s a good idea, darling,” he said quietly. “They have a point.”

“No!”

“Do you suggest we pay him?” Freddie asked.

“Like hell.” Roger was growling more than ever, his fists shaking. “I say I finish the job and snap his fucking neck.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Freddie said impatiently. “What good will that do?”

“If we tell the truth he loses credibility,” Brian said.

“Or it looks like we’re making shit up to _ shut _him up,” Roger said, rounding on him. “This is ridiculous!”

“I’ll do it,” Freddie told Miami, ignoring Roger’s protests. 

“Me too,” John agreed.

“And me,” Brian said, arms folded. They all looked at Roger. Roy looked like he wished he was anywhere else. Roger was still snarling, growling under his breath, but when Freddie took his hand, some of the tension left him.

“Fine,” he said, clearly reluctant. “Get the fucking police and doctors. Get everyone. We’re gonna shut this bastard up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July 25th…**

They only had one interviewer this time, for a newspaper called _ The Star Gazette, _a paper that mostly focussed on the entertainment industry; it was thankfully sympathetic to them, and had written multiple articles exposing EMI’s parties as a danger zone for Omegas; it was one of the first to take Fitzherbert’s victims seriously.

The journalist was a skinny Alpha man with crooked glasses and a bald patch, somewhere in his forties if Freddie had to guess. His name was Edward Hoover. He actually glanced at Roger for permission before he shook Freddie’s hand.

For a moment, that made Freddie worry. How traditional was he? Just because the paper as a whole had been sympathetic didn’t mean Edward was…

But thankfully, as Edward asked about the accusations, he was respectful.

“I understand this must be upsetting,” he said, looking between Roger and Freddie. “Especially with the little one on the way. But just to clear the air- is there any truth to what Paul Prenter is saying? Or to the rumours coming from EMI?”

“Not even a little bit,” Freddie said firmly.

“I’d _ never _sell Freddie off like that,” Roger snarled.

“It’s just a desperate attempt to make us look like the bad guys,” Brian said with a dismissive wave of his hand, cool as a cucumber. He even managed to look bored. 

“As for Paul- I’m surprised he’s showing his face, considering the beating Roger gave him,” Freddie said with a vicious smile.

“I- pardon?” Edward blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry, Freddie, could you repeat that?”

“Roger beat him,” Freddie said. “After he tried to rape me.” He tried hard not to shudder as he said it, and failed. He’d thought he was over it. He didn’t think about it anymore, but as he talked about it, he felt sick. He could almost feel Paul’s hands on him.

Edward slowly lowered his pen, and glanced at his recorder. He looked at them all, as if waiting for the punchline. They all stared back.

“...Care to explain?” Edward eventually asked.

“It’s a long story,” Freddie said.

“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” Edward said with a weak smile. “Long stories.”

The boys all looked at each other. Freddie clutched Roger’s hand, and Roger squeezed back.

“You don’t have to,” he said quietly, for the millionth time.

But Freddie had already told the truth once before. He could do it again now.

He turned back to Edward, and once more told the whole truth.

“It was when we were recording _ A Night At The Opera… _”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The very next day, it was front page news: _ PAUL PRENTER’S ATTEMPTED ASSAULT! _

Reid, Horace and the _ Queen _boys got call after call, asking for more interviews, asking for more facts; some accused them of lying, some retracted their support of Prenter.

And then came the rumour that Prenter had been paid by Sheffield and Foster to speak up.

The press sure had a field day about _ that. _

“Do you think it’s true?” Kashmira asked Freddie, reading the article over his shoulder. “Do you think they paid him?”

“Maybe,” Freddie said, sighing. “It wouldn’t surprise me, darling.”

“Pigs,” Mary spat. Roger snarled at the paper like it was a threat.

There was a growing number of artists looking for ways out of their contracts with EMI. Fitzherbert’s trial was due to start next month. People who hadn’t worked for EMI or Turned Up Records in _ years _spoke up. Even other executives threw each other under the bus, desperate to preserve their own reputations.

And now this. Paul’s attempted rape, out there for all to see.

Freddie kind of hated it, if he was honest. And yet, it seemed to work. More and more people were on their side, and combine this with the latest rumour of EMI paying Paul...Well, EMI had well and truly fucked themselves over. The doctors that had treated Freddie’s concussion spoke up, backing his story up; even the officers that night agreed to talk when they were asked. Officer Dean Oswald easily recounted what he saw, and to Freddie’s surprise even the other police officer, that grumpy old sod Richard, backed Freddie and Roger up.

Crystal, Ratty and Roy spoke up too, three other eyewitnesses that had seen the whole thing. 

EMI was crumbling right before his eyes. Freddie would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

Not everyone that worked there had been as bad as Sheffield and Foster, but too many _ had _been that bad. The rest simply ignored what was happening, pretending everything was okay, that it was normal.

Freddie had promised himself for years that the world would know his name and love it. He’d promised himself that he’d one day live in a world where he was equal.

He wasn’t about to let Sheffield, Foster or Paul stand in his way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“All I know is I'd rather die than believe a lie. (Live a lie). I cannot follow the blind. We'll never back down, we will not relent; now or never, till the day that we dreamed of. I see it coming as we press on, we will not relent. Now or never, till the day that we dreamed of. I see it coming to life.” -Never Back Down, _ ** **Nine Lashes**

By late August, Fitzherbert had officially been charged with multiple accounts of rape. The whole trial completely blew up, it even made international news. Rape, gang-rape, selling his artists like a pimp...His old cases, such as the waitress from ‘73, and Omegas who hadn’t worked for him in years, were dismissed. It was too long ago, they were told. The evidence wasn’t enough. But the two Omega artists who still worked for Turned Up Records? His maid, and that waiter? They were listened to.

In the end, he was given fifteen years in prison.

If you asked Freddie, he should have gotten longer, especially considering all those charges. Everyone should have been listened to.

But it was a start. For once, Fitzherbert’s Omega victims had justice.

Turned Up Records was bought by a younger Alpha, a woman named Catherine Higgs. Meanwhile, more than half of EMI’s clients had wormed their way out of there; they went to different labels, to new executives. In some cases, they dropped their managers and got new ones too. Almost everyone who had previously attempted to get a contract with them no longer wanted anything to do with them, and looked elsewhere.

They were rapidly losing money, and their reputation was in tatters. And maybe they really _ had _paid Paul off, because there were rumours that he’d moved to Munich.

It was only a matter of time until they were bought out, or closed down for good.

Freddie watched it all, his hands protectively on his stomach. When the guilty verdict was announced against Fitzherbert, he wanted to cry, because _ finally finally finally, _Fitzherbert was getting what he deserved.

It was a spark of hope. That maybe, just maybe, things could change.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 5th…** **  
** ** _“How rare and beautiful it is to even exist. I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again. I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen. I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time, that the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes.” -Saturn, _ ** **Sleeping At Last**

Pregnant or not, they still made birthday sex work.

Admittedly, Freddie had worried about it. A part of him screamed out that he was fat now; Roger wouldn’t want him. He was too heavy, and there were stretch marks on his stomach and thighs. Hardly the pinnacle of attractive.

If Roger noticed anything wrong, he didn’t even hint at it. He alternated between having Freddie on his hands and knees, or holding tight to Freddie’s hips as Freddie rode him; the blond Alpha looked totally breathless, eyes glued to Freddie. 

Freddie felt like an idiot for blushing- he wasn’t new to this for pity’s sake!- but he could feel himself going red, failing to bite back whimpers as Roger thrust into him.

“We could just skip the party,” Roger gasped, kissing at Freddie’s shoulder. “Stay here all day.”

“Tempting,” Freddie choked out, burying his face in the pillow and groaning. He wasn’t lying, it was all too tempting, but Mary had gone to such pains to organise this birthday party. Realistically, they had to go.

He glanced at the clock, clutching at the sheets, legs spreading further. Okay. Maybe they could squeeze another round in after this…

  
  
  
  
  
  


No one questioned that Freddie was late to his own birthday party. Really, it was expected by this point. If it had _ just _ been Freddie no one would have even blinked, but the fact that _ Roger _let them be late? Yeah, that raised some eyebrows.

When Freddie and Roger finally arrived at Mary’s flat, both smelling incredibly like each other, the mark on Freddie’s neck almost painfully dark, John rolled his eyes and Veronica giggled. 

_ Typical, _he thought. He was amused despite himself.

Since Mary had invited Freddie’s family, as well as Roger’s, it was a quieter affair than usual. No craziness, no excessive amounts of alcohol, not even a hint of drugs. She hadn’t invited anyone she thought might get out of hand. Elton swore to be on his absolutely best behaviour. It was all very proper.

“I’m worried he’ll be bored,” Mary confided, biting at her thumbnail.

“Not a bit,” John reassured her. “He’ll love it.”

Freddie _ did _seem to be enjoying himself, sleepy as he was. He was tucked under Roger’s arm as usual, smiling, half-dozing and letting Roger do the talking.

He at least perked up when it was time for cake and presents.

Mary and Chrissie laughed when they realised they’d bought the exact same toy for baby Caspian, but Freddie beamed at them.

“One lovely thing about being pregnant on your birthday,” he said. “Is that everyone’s gone and done the baby shopping _ for _you.”

“Guilty as charged,” Veronica said sheepishly, handing over hers and John’s present; a set of baby pyjamas with matching hats. Robert squirmed on John’s lap, trying to reach for the cake. 

“Less work for me, love,” Freddie laughed.

Most of the presents were technically for Caspian; clothes, toys and blankets. At least Freddie genuinely seemed to appreciate it. Roger kept laughing at them all. Elton handed over a collection of cuddly toys and a huge bottle of champagne.

“You’ll need it, darling,” he said with a grin. 

“I know,” Freddie said, eyeing the bottle mournfully. “I’m already knackered.”

Elton opened his mouth to speak, glanced at Bomi and Jer, and wisely kept quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time-skip next time: some engagement talk and hopefully the birth!
> 
> Thanks for reading 💕


	46. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engagement plans are interrupted, and labour is never easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ring shopping and a certain little lad is on his way...

**October 21st, 1976, London England** **  
** ** _“I found a love for me. Darling, just dive right in, and follow my lead. Well, I found a girl beautiful and sweet. I never knew you were the someone waiting for me, 'cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time. But, darling, just kiss me slow; your heart is all I own, and in your eyes you're holding mine.” -Perfect, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

John couldn’t help but grin as Freddie dragged him down the street. Freddie had, against his norm, shown up at John’s house early with bright eyes and an earnest request.

So here they were, peering into the window of every jewellery shop they came across, pointing out rings to each other, debating the different styles and prices. In Freddie’s case, he kept second guessing the whole thing.

“Omegas don’t usually propose,” he kept saying, biting his lip. “Do you think he’ll want to?”

“He will,” John said, utterly confident. “Freddie, Rog _ loves _you.”

“I know, but…”

“And who cares if you’re an Omega? You can propose if you want. Who cares what society says?” Grinning, John squeezed Freddie’s arm. “_ You _normally don’t.”

Freddie smiled at that, linking his arm with John’s.

“Okay, darling, you have me there,” he said.

They eventually found a jeweller’s that caught both their attention. If John was honest, it looked a little snooty; that was the only word for it. It was a large shop, with big bright displays, a plush red carpet inside and plenty of gold decorations. Well, they could afford it, but the frowning attendants still made him shrink back. In so many ways he still felt like that broke college student.

Even Freddie seemed a little nervous about going in, but they kept their arms linked and marched in.

If the attendants recognised them, they didn’t let on. One of them raised an eyebrow at Freddie’s belly, but the other three didn’t react.

“Can I help you, sirs?” a young woman asked; a Beta with curly brown hair.

Freddie blinked in surprise at being addressed as _ sir, _and John forced himself to speak first; “My friend’s looking for an engagement ring.”

“Ah.” The Beta smiled at Freddie, almost mischievously. “Trying to hint to your boyfriend, sir?”

“If me proposing is a hint, then yes,” Freddie said, and the woman did a double take.

“Oh,” she said, and John braced himself for sneering. To his surprise, she kept smiling. “Okay then. Have you any ideas of what you’d like?”

Freddie had perhaps _ too many _ideas. Other customers kept giving them confused glances, one man scoffed at them as he left, and an Alpha and Omega couple looked positively scandalised, but John did his best to block them all out and simply help his friend.

In the end it came down to three rings: a thick silver band embedded with little diamonds, so small they almost looked like glitter; a gold band with a streak of silver and three large diamonds; and a rose gold ring with one large diamond and surrounded on both sides by clusters of more tiny diamonds.

If John was honest, he thought them all lovely. God knew that choosing Veronica’s engagement ring had been a drama and a half. He simply hadn’t known where to start. Nothing had seemed good enough for her.

It seemed that Freddie was facing the same dilemma now. He stood there, biting his thumb, eyes roving over the rings.

“They’re all very pretty,” the attendant said. “But do any of them suit him?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Freddie asked.

“Well, what’s he like? What kind of style would _ he _go for?”

Finally, Freddie started to smile. John swore he could see a light-bulb flash to life over Freddie’s head as he reached out and tapped the rose gold ring.

“That one,” he said with a little nod, and the attendant’s smile widened.

“Wonderful,” she said. “I’ll get that ready for you.” She took the ring and marched away to find a box and bag for it, and Freddie gave John a rather incredulous smile.

“I’m actually doing this,” he said. “Aren’t I?”

“You are,” John said, grinning. “And Roger will love it, I promise. Any ideas for _ when _you’ll propose?” He’d quite like a heads up, thank you.

“I’ve no fucking clue,” Freddie admitted with a laugh, ignoring the scandalised gasp of the woman next to them. “I’ll find the perfect moment, Deacy, don’t worry.”

So knowing those idiots this could drag on forever.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**October 23rd…**

Two days later, though they didn’t know it, Brian and Roger were on the exact same mission.

“Rog, I swear we’ve looked at every shop this side of London,” Brian huffed. The first place he’d brought Roger was the shop where he’d bought Chrissie’s ring. Roger had bluntly declared that none of the rings were good enough and marched right back out, which instantly put a damper on the whole thing. Brian couldn’t _ help _ but be insulted. What, was Roger trying to say that _ Chrissie’s _ring wasn’t good enough?

“Yeah? Well we’ll _ keep _looking until we find somewhere good enough,” Roger snapped, frowning over his shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation he added, “Sorry, Bri.”

Sighing, Brian nodded. “It’s fine.”

Because it was, really. It was just the stress. And _ God, _ the pressure. The more freaked out Roger got, the more freaked out _ Brian _got.

If he was totally honest, he’d lost track of how many shops they’d been in. Was it thirteen? Fifteen? Around that, he was sure.

It was well into the afternoon by the time they found an oddly _ classical _shop, almost intimidating in its way, all marble and pearl decor, pale colours and soft fluffy rugs, spotless white tiles and water colour paintings on the walls, with plenty of mirrors. The sign in the window proudly proclaimed, in incredibly swirly gold writing (it took them a moment to decipher it) that they had their own range of rings specially for Omegas.

Well, it was a straw to grasp at.

A tiny old Alpha woman immediately came forward to help them. She wore a pearl necklace and didn’t have a hair out of place.

“Hello gentlemen,” she said with a sweet smile, and Brian had to bite back a joke about Roger being anything _ but _a gentleman. “How can I help you today?”

“Er…” Roger looked almost baffled by her presence. “I...Well, I’m looking to propose to my boyfriend, so…” He shrugged, and the woman beamed at him.

“Congratulations, dear,” she said. “What is he? Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“Omega,” Roger said, and the woman led them to the Omega section. Right away, Brian could see that none of these would work. They just so _ weren’t _ Freddie. They were all...Well, they were _ delicate. _ Very thin, with tiny diamonds; otherwise they were old-fashioned, almost overrun with diamonds and pearls, rather cluttered looking. Sapphires may have been Freddie’s birthstone, but they all looked like something that Brian’s _ granny _ would wear. Absolutely nothing looked like something Freddie would wear. Simply put, they didn’t have enough _ flare. _

It was obvious Roger knew it, because his frown only grew.

“Could I look at the other sections?” he asked, and the Alpha attendant pursed her lips.

“You said he’s an Omega,” she said, and Roger folded his arms.

“He is,” Roger said. “And none of these suit him.” He frowned at a ring that was apparently from Paris, and turned away. “I’m going to keep looking.”

Funnily enough, they found the perfect ring in the Alpha section.

Yellow gold with a twisting band; one gold band, one diamond band, meeting in the middle to seemingly cradle a bigger diamond.

“Perfect,” Roger said with a grin. Contrary to earlier, he was utterly lit up now. “He’ll love it.”

The woman looked positively shocked, but she didn’t comment or question them. She pursed her lips again, but she nodded and got the ring all wrapped up for them.

“Get him pregnant twice, _ then _propose,” Brian laughed as they walked out. “Well, maybe now Bomi will stop glaring at you.”

“Never,” Roger said with a grin, apparently proud of it. “He hates me.”

“Yeah,” Brian said. “Reckon so.”

Roger’s grin only widened as he swung the little bag back and forth. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Do you really think he’ll love it, Brimi?” he asked.

“He will,” Brian said. “I’m sure of it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**November 30th, 1976** **  
** ** _“Have heart my dear, we're bound to be afraid; even if it's just for a few days, making up for all this mess.. Light up, light up. As if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear…” -Run, _ ** **Snow Patrol**

Deacy wasn’t far off. They both had the rings, but both of them kept waiting for the right moment. Roger eventually figured out the perfect plan: propose after the baby was born. Preferably the same day, maybe the day after. Call him a sap, but it seemed perfect.

Freddie meanwhile, was determined to think of the perfect way to propose _ before _Caspian was born, though Caspian himself kept Freddie busy. They’d no sooner finished setting up the nursery than Freddie wanted to rearrange the whole thing. He couldn’t seem to help it. He wanted to rearrange the furniture, he even worried about painting the nursery blue. Maybe they should repaint it? Did they need more toys, more clothes, more nappies?

He packed and repacked his hospital bag a good six times.

If he wasn’t fussing, he was sleeping. The random burst of hormones were the only time he had any energy in the last month. As soon as November hit his energy took a quick decline, and Kevin had ordered him to rest as much as possible. At least the album was finished, because Freddie wasn’t even sure he’d manage to get through a song without yawning.

He fell asleep early, only eight o’clock, but he woke up just after ten to a twisting pain in his back and an awful, queasy feeling in his stomach. For a moment he was tempted to brush it off as Braxton Hicks. He’d had those, albeit rarely, and had freaked out each time.

But the pain only grew until he honestly felt like throwing up. He whimpered, unable to bite it back, and slapped Roger awake, turning onto his side with some difficulty. The cats began to meow in distress, but Roger jerked awake.

“Whatzgoinon?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Freddie went to answer, but only managed a strangled grown, hands on his stomach.

“Fred?” Roger’s voice was much sharper and he turned on the bedside lamp. “Freddie, what’s wrong?”

“I- I think I’m in labour, darling,” Freddie gasped, biting back another groan. Shit, was this _ normal? _Weren’t contractions meant to start out small?

Just like that, he was terrified.

“Rog, I think something’s wrong,” he said, and Roger jumped into action.

“Right,” he said, helping Freddie sit up and grabbing his shoes for him. “Come on, love. Hospital,”

As Roger helped him to his feet and grabbed the baby bag, Freddie couldn’t bite back another groan, doubling over as the pain gripped him. This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal.

_ Don’t die, _ he thought, blindly letting Roger lead him to the car. _ Please, Caspian, don’t die. Please don’t. _

It didn’t occur to him yet, to be scared for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger this time I'm afraid, and drama and angst ahead, but I promise it'll all work out.


	47. Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspian's birth comes with its complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for difficult and dangerous childbirth. If you want to skip it, head to the lyrics for Coldplay's "Fix You." That half of the chapter more-so covers the aftermath; things are difficult, but everyone will be safe.

** _“I shot for the sky, I'm stuck on the ground. So why do I try? I know I'm gonna to fall down. I thought I could fly, so why did I drown? I’ll never know why it's coming down, down, down. Oh, I am going down, down, down. Can't find another way around, and I don't want to hear the sound of losing what I never found.” -Cry, _ ** **Jason Walker**

Roger couldn’t fight the panic back. It just kept growing and growing, until it was all he could do not to scream. It was well past midnight, and Freddie wasn’t allowed push yet. They wouldn’t even give him anything to help with the pain yet. 

The doctor in charge of the delivery was a tall, broad Beta man named Daniel Baines, somewhere in his fifties, maybe even his sixties. He looked like a typical Alpha, not a Beta, with those strong arms and that aura of pure confidence. When Roger expressed worry for Freddie’s safety, Baines firmly told him there was nothing to worry about yet.

_ Yet. _That one little word made Roger panic all over again.

Two in the morning, three in the morning, and still no developments. No pushing allowed, no painkillers, and Freddie was clearly in pain. He clutched Roger’s hand, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes tightly shut. Whenever he groaned, Baines tutted, shaking his head.

“Now, now, no need for that,” he said briskly.

“Could you shut up?” Roger snapped. It seemed to take Baines a moment to realise that Roger was talking to _ him, _not Freddie. When he did, he gave an impatient huff, turning away from them.

“Rog, this doesn’t feel right,” Freddie sobbed, both hands on his stomach, eyes still tightly closed.

“Can’t you _ help _him?” Roger demanded of Baines. 

“There’s nothing to be done yet,” Baines said. “Your Omega isn’t ready to push.”

It sounded like utter shit to Roger. He hated that he didn’t have all the answers. He hated having to trust what the doctors around them said. He wished they could have stuck with Kevin, instead of getting assigned whoever was available. He hated having to trust yet another stranger with Freddie and Caspian’s safety.

Four-thirty, and still nothing. Roger wondered if he should call anyone, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He just held onto Freddie’s hand, brushing his boyfriend’s tangled hair back, one hand resting on Freddie’s stomach, doing his best to soothe him with no luck.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was nearly eight in the morning when Baines felt between Freddie’s legs, nodded, and announced he was ready to push.

Roger wasn’t so sure about that. Freddie was already limp with exhaustion, not even sobbing anymore; he groaned whenever a contraction hit, clinging to Roger, but he’d long since stopped trying to sit up. When he was told to put his legs in the stirrups he even struggled with that, gasping for breath, pale as a sheet and shaking.

“Something’s not right,” Roger said as two more doctors arrived, one man and one woman. His instincts flared when he realised the other man was an Alpha; he clung to Freddie, growling.

“No need for that either,” Baines said to Roger. “We’re here to help.”

“Don’t fret, little ‘un,” the woman said, patting Freddie on the shoulder. “You’re doing splendidly, I’m sure.” She was very skinny, very tall, with curly hair that reminded him a bit of Brian’s, only it was cut short. 

“So can he have painkillers or what?” Roger demanded.

“Well that’s up to you, sir,” the Alpha man said, which made Roger sick.

Roger looked at Freddie, tiny and shaking, groaning and gasping in pain, and he nodded.

“Help him,” he said. “Whatever you have to do, just _ help him. _”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 1st, 1976** **  
** ** _“This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us. Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever? Who? Who dares to love forever, oh, when love must die? But touch my tears with your lips, touch my world with your fingertips. And we can have forever. And we can love forever. Forever is our today.” -Who Wants To Live Forever?, _ ** **Queen**

Roger would have expected things to speed up now that the labour had begun in earnest. 

He was terribly mistaken.

It seemed like nothing was _ happening. _Freddie pushed and pushed, clutching Roger’s hand so tightly it hurt, until he thought he heard something crack, but it seemed like Caspian didn’t want to come out.

“Push harder,” the Alpha doctor, Matthew, commanded. “As hard as you can.”

“I’m _ trying, _” Freddie sobbed, red-faced now, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lip bitten ragged.

“Would you knock it off?” Roger barked, glaring at the other Alpha. “He’s doing his best!”

Matthew returned Roger’s glare easily; Baines huffed impatiently again, and the other Beta, Eleanor, pursed her lips but at least looked sympathetic, occasionally giving Freddie a pat on the arm or shoulder, though if you asked Roger she spoke to Freddie the way you’d speak to a puppy.

It all made him want to tear his hair out. He knew Omega healthcare wasn’t great, he’d seen it himself, but how could they look so bloody unsympathetic when there were _ two _lives in their hands? Especially that fucker Matthew, Roger would deck him if he laid a hand on Freddie- okay, that was his instincts talking and he knew it. It was still tempting.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He should have called someone, anyone. He should have called Brian or Deacy. He should have called his mum, Kashmira, Clare, or Freddie’s parents. He should have called Mary. Hell, he should have called Miami. _ Anyone. _Anyone at all, because he was out of his mind with worry.

It was nine o’clock at night, and still no sign of Caspian, and Roger couldn’t imagine leaving Freddie’s side for even a second now. He should have called them before things got to this point, because he _ couldn’t _let Freddie go, not for an instant. He couldn’t leave him alone.

Twenty-two hours, and there’d been little to no progress. Roger wondered if the drugs had even helped at all, because Freddie was screaming more than ever.

“I can’t do it,” he sobbed, lying limply against Roger. “Roggie, I _ can’t. _”

“You can,” Roger said, holding him tight, kissing the top of his head. “You can do it, sweetheart; you can do anything.”

It was still another two hours before Baines sighed and said, “Bring me the forceps.”

“The what?” Roger demanded sharply, as Eleanor hurried across the room. For a split second, Roger honestly thought she was holding salad tongs, and he had to fight the mad urge to laugh, because what the fuck were they going to do with _ those? _

But then Baines reached between Freddie’s legs with those things, and Roger nearly lost it.

“What the fuck are you _ doing? _” he growled, holding Freddie even tighter against him, pulling him back from those prying hands and calculating eyes.

“The child is stuck,” Baines said, surprisingly patient. “We need to get him out before he starts showing signs of distress.”

That didn’t sound right to him, not at all. Surely that was completely insane? Surely there was something else they could do?

“You’ll crush his fucking head with those things!” Roger said, hysteria rising in his chest. Freddie weakly pushed himself up on his forearms, blinking blearily. He saw the forceps and his eyes widened, a frightened whimper escaping.

“Sir, you’re distressing your Omega,” Eleanor said gently.

“_ I’m _distressing him?”

“You’ll have to leave if you don’t calm down,” Matthew snapped.

At that, Roger shut his mouth, grinding his teeth. Freddie clung to him, burying his face in Roger’s shoulder, sobbing.

Roger couldn’t look. He closed his eyes, holding Freddie as close as he could, uselessly cooing nonsense in a vain attempt to comfort him. He kept his eyes closed, trying to block out everything else- and suddenly, he could hear a baby crying.

Relief flooded him, but when he opened his eyes, the three doctors were huddled around Caspian on the other side of the room, frantically muttering together.

“Wha...What’s...Go…” Freddie gasped for breath, his eyes closing with another whimper. Roger saw the blood between Freddie’s legs and it was all he could do not to scream.

“What’s going on?” Roger demanded on Freddie’s behalf. His fear only grew when Eleanor took the baby and ran, hiding Caspian’s face from their view.

_ “What happened?” _Roger shouted, and Matthew and Baines finally looked at him.

“His mouth’s been cut,” Baines said. “He was having trouble moving it. Not to worry, Mr Taylor, he’s in good hands.”

“Liar,” Roger snarled, because he didn’t believe them for an instant. _ Good hands!? _They’d hurt his baby! How could they expect him to believe that little Caspian was in good hands?

Freddie didn’t say anything, and Roger’s blood ran cold. The heart monitor was slowing down, and for a moment it sounded normal...But it got slower, Freddie’s eyes were only half open, he was white as a sheet, clammy and shivering. Matthew and Baines jumped into action; Matthew all but punched a red button next to the bed, and more doctors came running in as the puddle of blood between Freddie’s legs began to grow.

“Fred?” Roger said hoarsely. _ “Freddie?” _

“Rog…” Freddie murmured weakly, so quietly that Roger could barely hear him. 

Roger tried to hold onto him, but two doctors were pulling him away with all their strength. He fought back, punching, kicking and screaming.

_ “FREDDIE!” _

This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t fucking happening. He had to _ stay, _ he’d promised promised promised, he’d _ promised _ to look after Freddie, he’d promised he’d protect him, he had to _ stay. _

_ “FREDDIE!” _

Then he was in the hallway, the door was slammed shut in his face. Roger sank to his knees, sobbing, and a round-faced nurse put an arm around him. She said something, but Roger barely registered that she was there.

All he could see was the blood between Freddie’s legs, how pale he’d been; all he could hear was Freddie’s screams and sobs. All he could think of was Freddie _ dying, _ dying alone. All he could think of was Caspian, all alone somewhere in this hospital, without either of his parents to hold him.

“Sir? Sir can you hear me?” the nurse was asking with increasing worry. “Can I help? Do you need anything? Is there someone we can call?”

A million names crossed his mind, but in the end Roger gasped, “Call Brian. Please call Brian.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 2nd, 1976** **  
** ** _“Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you. Tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace. Tears stream down your face, and I...Tears stream down your face, I promise you I will learn from my mistakes. Tears stream down your face, and I...Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” -Fix You, _ ** **Coldplay**

It was after midnight by the time a doctor came out, an older Alpha who looked at Roger like he was a wild animal in danger of biting him.

By then, Brian had long since arrived. He’d gotten Roger into a seat, called Deacy, the Bulsaras, Mary, Winifred, Clare, and Miami, and then he sat with Roger as they waited for everyone to arrive, holding onto Roger’s hand.

The other had arrived one by one, or in little groups. Jer was still praying, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. Bomi kept pacing, only stopping to briefly nod his thanks when Deacy handed him a cup of coffee.

“Mr Taylor?” the doctor said, hanging back like he was afraid to get close. “Your Omega is stable, sir. A minor hemorrhage and some tearing.”

_ Minor? _ Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. That hadn’t looked fucking _ minor _to him.

“And Cas?” he asked, clinging to Brian’s hand.

“Perfectly alright,” the doctor said, apparently relaxed now that Roger hadn’t lashed out. “His mouth’s still sore, poor little lad is having some trouble feeding, but nothing dangerous, I promise. It’ll heal up in a few days and he’ll be right as rain.”

“And when will _ Freddie _ be _ right as rain? _” Brian demanded.

“It will be hard to say until he wakes up,” the doctor said, looking at Brian somewhat warily. He clicked his heels together. “I can take you to see your son now,” he offered, and Roger jumped up so quickly he nearly tripped.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The doctor took him straight to the nursery. They’d put Caspian towards the back, and he was sleeping soundly. The scab on the corner of his mouth, the slight crookedness to his lips made Roger’s heart speed up, but the doctor assured him again and again that Caspian would be perfectly alright, his mouth would heal in a matter of days, there wouldn’t be any scarring.

Other than that...Well. He was perfect. Easily the most beautiful thing Roger had ever seen. He was a plump little thing with a thatch of brown hair, paler than Freddie, though not quite as pale as Roger, with a little button nose. He smelled like hot chocolate; hot chocolate and cherries, and Roger immediately felt soothed.

“He’s beautiful,” Roger murmured, gently reaching out to touch Caspian’s tiny hand. The baby’s hand wrapped around his finger, and Roger was crying before he could stop himself.

“Sorry your papa can’t be here yet, little guy,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll look after you for now, okay? I’m right here.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“But I'm only human, and I bleed when I fall down. I'm only human, and I crash, and I break down. Your words in my head, knives in my heart; you build me up and then I fall apart, ‘cause I'm only human.” -Human, _ ** **Christina Perri**

Freddie woke up within the day. Roger had finally been allowed to see him around three in the morning, and he’d fallen asleep in the ugly plastic orange chair next to his bed. He didn’t look _ quite _so bad as he had before, but Roger still felt like crying; Freddie was still awfully pale, he looked so tiny, so fragile, with dark circles under his eyes.

Roger wanted to stay awake, to watch over him, but he was soon asleep, still holding Freddie’s hand.

He woke up to a gentle hand in his hair, a familiar (albeit exhausted and broken) voice saying, “Roggie? Darling?”

It was like receiving an electric shock: just like that, he was wide awake, thrumming with adrenaline.

_ “Fred!” _ he gasped. Freddie gave him a weak smile, wincing with pain whenever he moved, slightly shivering, and Roger was sobbing, clutching Freddie’s hand tightly; he kissed Freddie’s hand, his wrist, his forehead and lips, all the while clinging to him, afraid to let go for even a second.

“What happened?” Freddie asked, eyes already drooping. “Where- where’s Caspian? Is he okay?”

“He’s okay,” Roger promised him, wiping at his tears, grinning when Freddie linked their hands again. “He’s just- his mouth’s sore, but he’s okay, I promise. Just...Just having some trouble feeding.”

Freddie’s eyes widened and he tried to push himself up, groaning in pain.

“Don’t,” Roger said gently, laying him back down. 

“You’re _ sure _he’s okay?” Freddie asked frantically, his voice a little stronger. “Promise me, Roggie.”

“I promise,” Roger said, kissing his hand again. _ “I promise.” _

“And me?” Freddie asked. “What happened?”

Roger sighed, Freddie’s hand still pressed against his lips. He pulled back slightly to say, “I’ll let the doctor explain that one.” He pressed the button to summon assistance, and sat on the edge of Freddie’s bed as gently as he could, holding his boyfriend close, running a hand through Freddie’s hair.

“We’re okay, right?” Freddie asked.

“You’re okay,” Roger said as a doctor came rushing in. “You’re both okay.”

Freddie was awake, albeit exhausted and in pain. Caspian was okay, but struggling to feed. It was no wonder that Roger’s instincts were still in a whirl, screaming at him to get Freddie and Caspian home as soon as possible.

He _ would _get them home as soon as possible.

He’d keep them safe. He’d do anything, absolutely _ anything _to keep them safe.

For now, Roger held onto Freddie as the doctor gently explained what had happened, and how it would take a few weeks for Freddie to recover.

“We don’t want you doing anything too taxing,” he said. “We can’t risk you tearing your stitches.”

Freddie nodded somewhat impatiently. “I want my baby,” he said, and he almost sounded like his usual commanding self.

The doctor paused, glancing at Roger as if for permission. Maybe he was. Roger nodded, and the doctor agreed to go and fetch Caspian.

“Now just remember, you can’t feed him yourself yet,” he warned. “He needs a few days for his mouth to heal.”

“Okay,” Freddie said with that ever growing impatience. Roger couldn’t blame him. “Now would you _ please _just bring me my baby?”

The doctor nodded and left. Instantly, Freddie leaned against Roger, sighing in exhaustion.

“It hurts,” he admitted. 

“I know,” Roger said, hating how helpless he felt. Well fuck that, _ no, _ he’d keep Freddie safe. He _ would. _He’d make this better. 

He only truly relaxed when the doctor returned with Caspian in his arms. This time, the little guy was wide awake, waving his tiny fists. His eyes were dark, oddly green, his mouth opening and closing. The scab looked horribly sore, and Freddie’s eyes brimmed with tears when he saw it.

“Here we go,” the doctor said cheerfully, handing the baby to Freddie. “Have a cuddle with your parents, lad.”

“Hey you,” Roger said with a little grin. Caspian peered at him, and at Freddie, like they were the most interesting things in the world. As if he knew them right away. Maybe he did.

Freddie may have been pale, he may have been weak and ill, but he was practically glowing now. Caspian reached up for him, his little mouth hanging open.

“Hello,” Freddie said gently, smiling so sweetly. “You gave me a terrible scare, darling. Look at your poor little mouth.”

“We’ve been feeding him from a bottle,” the doctor said. “He’s been having some difficulty, but nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“He’s well fed then?” Roger asked. Freddie seemed incapable of looking away from Caspian.

“He is,” the doctor confirmed, and Roger nodded in acknowledgment, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s shoulders, looking back to Caspian. Freddie had yet to look away from him at all.

“Will you tell everyone else he’s awake?” Roger asked. The doctor nodded with a small smile, and went to find the others. Roger kissed Freddie’s temple, smiling down at the baby.

“I love you,” Freddie whispered to Caspian. “I love you so much, darling.” He beamed up at Roger. “Roggie, he looks like you.”

Roger still quite wanted to cry. He didn’t. Not for now. For now, he held onto Freddie, he held onto Caspian, and he silently promised to keep them both safe. 

And he smiled. “Yeah? I reckon he looks like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise everyone will be okay! Two things helped inspire this chapter:  
1) One of my favourite authors, Jacqueline Wilson, mentioned how difficult her own birth was in her autobiography; she was stuck, and they had to use forceps, which damaged her mouth similar to Caspian. I knew I wanted to use forceps, but I wasn't sure how for a while.  
2) I was re-watching "Call The Midwife" and reading up on some dangerous birth stories, wherein the doctors showed little to no sympathy for the mother, even when things were going wrong. I've mentioned before that Omega healthcare is pretty shit; a lot of their symptoms are ignored or brushed off, even in childbirth. In a lot of cases, the Alpha's opinion matters more, and I wanted to show that for real this time.
> 
> However, I promise that Cas will be all healed up in a few days; Freddie will take a few weeks to heal. In the meantime, Roger's gonna hover, and has entered peak protective!Roger levels.


	48. I've Been Waiting For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bring baby Caspian home, and surprise each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baby is here and we can move onto the next arc of the story! Thanks to everyone who's read so far, I still can't believe how long this has gotten ❤

** _“So it can be us, it can be us, and only us. And what came before won't count anymore, or matter; we can try that. It's not so impossible. Nobody else but the two of us here. 'Cause you're saying it's possible; we can just watch the whole world disappear.” -Only Us, _ ** **Dear Evan Hansen**

Roger doubted he’d ever get tired of this: of just sitting and watching Freddie with Caspian. He’d heard so many stories, time and time again, of people saying their partner with their baby was the most beautiful sight in the world. Roger had scoffed, rolled his eyes at it.

Not now. Now he understood. Now he whole-heartedly agreed.

Freddie still looked exhausted, he still winced when he moved, but he looked  _ happy.  _ So incredibly happy. The happiest Roger had ever seen him.

“I still say he looks like you,” Roger said.

“And I still say you’re wrong,” Freddie answered with a smile.

There was a small knock on the door, and Brian and Deacy poked their heads in.

“Hey,” Deacy said. He was holding a huge bunch of flowers. “Can we come in?”

“Obviously, darling,” Freddie said. Caspian grunted, seemingly in agreement. Brian had two penguin soft toys, one in a pink dress, the other in a blue suit. He waved them as Caspian, grinning, all but glowing when Cas looked at him.

“He’s so gorgeous,” Deacy said, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. “Look at those big eyes!”

“He’s a stunner,” Roger said proudly, holding onto Caspian’s tiny hand. “He looks like Fred.”

“He looks like  _ you, _ ” Freddie insisted.

Their friends squinted at the baby, considering.

“He looks like Freddie,” Deacy agreed, while at the same time Brian said “He looks like Rog.”

They all four looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie left the hospital five days after Caspian’s birth. Miami, the utter gem that he was, leaked a fake release date to the press, so they could leave in peace.

It felt so strange getting home. Roger drove as carefully as he could, even wearing his glasses for once, creeping around every corner, going at a snail’s pace.

Well, Freddie wasn’t about to give out to him for that. Snail’s pace or not, if Roger had gone any faster Freddie would have snapped.

Freddie sat in the back of the car with Caspian. Their son was fast asleep, his mouth hanging open, his tiny fists lightly clenched. Freddie switched between holding one of Caspian’s hands, or resting a gentle hand on the baby’s head, refusing to look away from him, certain that something would go wrong if he looked away for even a second.

And then, somehow, they were home.

The cats were with Mary, and would be until tomorrow morning. The poor things were in for a shock when they got home: suddenly a baby was there, demanding all of Roger and Freddie’s attention.

Gently, Freddie lay the carrier down on the sofa, keeping both hands on it even when he set it down, terrified it would tilt and fall to the floor. Caspian was still snoozing, and Freddie just- he had no idea what to  _ do. _

“Roggie,” he said, glancing warily at his boyfriend. “What do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Roger asked, sitting next to him.

“I just- shouldn’t we do something?” Freddie wasn’t even sure what they should do, where they should start. Did they let Cas keep sleeping? Did they try and move him into his cot now? What if he slept through his feeding time? They’d  _ have  _ to wake him up then.

“We take advantage of the quiet while we have it,” Roger said, grinning. He kissed Freddie quickly, beaming at him. “Because God knows he’ll wreck our heads once he wakes up.”

“Never,” Freddie said stubbornly. He turned back to Caspian. “Your daddy’s being mean, sweetheart, don’t listen to him.”

“He’s  _ asleep,  _ Fred!”

“Shh!” Freddie pressed a finger against Roger’s lips. Roger blinked at him, eyes wide, before he grinned, accepting defeat. Freddie looked at the baby again, biting his lip.

“You’re absolutely  _ certain _ it’s okay to leave him in the carrier, darling? Promise?”

“He’s okay, Freddie,” Roger said, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist. “He’s safe as can be.”

  
  
  
  
  


**  
** ** _“I, I have known love before, I thought it would no more take on a new direction. Still, strange as it seems to be, it's truly new to me: that affection. I, I don't know what you do. You make me think that you will change my life forever. I, I'll always want you near. Give up on you, my dear, I will never.” -I’ve Been Waiting For You, _ ** **Mamma Mia 2 (cover)**

The cats actually seemed to  _ love  _ Caspian. They took their turns sniffing him, Ziggy first, Tom and Jerry patiently waiting their turns. After that, Ziggy curled up next to Caspian’s carrier and purred, closing his eyes. Tom and Jerry watched with eagle eyes, and all three of them followed Roger and Freddie from room to room, so long as they had Caspian in their arms.

“Well,” Roger said. “That’s a relief. I thought they’d eat his face.”

“Slander,” Freddie huffed from his place on the sofa, Caspian in his arms. “Utter slander.”

“Are they- are they  _ guarding  _ him?” Mary asked. They all looked at the cats, hovering protectively around the baby. They certainly seemed to be guarding him.

“Huh. What do you know? Looks like it.” Roger folded his arms, relaxing minutely as all three cats purred. Freddie looked highly approving, almost smug about it. Mary just laughed at them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 8th...**

If there was one thing that drove Roger mad, it was that Freddie was weirdly shy about feeding Cas in front of him. He made Roger leave the room, or took Caspian into another room to feed him, looking oddly pink in the face.

He was also still exhausted, that much was clear. He still winced whenever he stood up, and he walked slowly, holding himself stiffly or slouching with exhaustion by turns. 

Freddie literally groaned in relief when Roger offered to take Caspian so Freddie could have a bath.

“I love you,” Freddie told him. “So much.” He hurried away and Roger could hear the water running, could faintly smell Freddie’s favourite lavender bubble-bath. Caspian squirmed in his arms, huffing.

“I know, I know,” Roger cooed. “He’ll be back soon, little guy, don’t worry.” Caspian stared up at him solemnly, almost like he understood. Or maybe he just liked the sound of Roger’s voice. Either way he stopped squirming, and let Roger feed him from a bottle.

Caspian was a relatively quiet baby, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lacking in sleep. Little or not, he had one hell of a set of lungs on him. He’d gotten poop all over Roger’s arm just that morning.

And yet Roger wouldn’t have it any other way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Truth be told, Roger didn’t plan on proposing that day. He’d decided to wait until Freddie was totally well again, but- well, perhaps it was weird, but he walked in on Freddie feeding Caspian in their room, and…

And it just slipped out.

Freddie was sitting on the edge of the bed, Caspian was latched onto his chest, and Freddie was practically glowing with happiness, smiling down at their baby like he was the most precious thing in the world- which he  _ was,  _ thank you very much.

“Marry me,” Roger said, and Freddie jumped in surprise. Caspian let out an indignant cry, and Freddie went scarlet, tugging his shirt down.

And then Roger’s words actually seemed to register with him.

_ “What?”  _ Freddie gaped at him, eyes wide, and Caspian shrieked. “Did you just…?”

“Marry me,” Roger repeated. He went to his bedside table and took the ring from the top drawer. He sat next to Freddie and opened the little black box, and Freddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he held Cas close, gently rocking the baby even as he stared at Roger in shock.

“You  _ prick! _ ” Freddie said, which wasn’t  _ at all  _ what Roger had hoped for. But Freddie was laughing, and he scrambled for his bag of art supplies, pulling out a little black box of his own.

“Oh my  _ God! _ ” Roger laughed, throwing his head back. “Are you  _ kidding  _ me?”

“Afraid not,” Freddie said with a shy smile. They looked at each other, beaming. The cats prowled around their ankles, Caspian pouted, deprived of his milk, and Roger couldn’t stop smiling if he’d been paid to.

“So,” he said. “Marry me?”

“Obviously, darling,” Freddie said, eyes shining. He held his own ring out again. “Marry me?”

“Obviously, darling,” Roger parroted with an ever-growing grin.

Their friends were going to be so smug about this. His mum would cry, he was sure of it. Maybe Bomi would stop glaring at him now.

But right then, all Roger really cared about was Freddie- his  _ fiance!-  _ and Caspian, his baby son, blinking at them both like they were crazy.

The rings were perfect fits.

It wasn’t a conventional proposal. Wasn’t all that romantic either. But if you asked Roger and Freddie it suited them perfectly.

It would always be one of their favourite stories to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you were expecting some grand romantic proposal, huh? Not with these idiots 😂


	49. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys break the news of their engagement, and adjust to life as parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, it's been hectic over here!

** _“Two weeks later in the living room stressin’, my father’s stone-faced while you’re asking for his blessin’. I’m dying inside, as you wine and dine, and I’m tryin’ not to cry ‘cause there’s nothing that your mind can’t do. My father makes his way across the room to you, I panic for a second, thinking ‘We’re through.’’ But then he shakes your hand and says ‘Be true,’ and you turn back to me, smiling, and I’m helpless!” -Helpless, _ ** **Hamilton**

They called Brian and Deacy moments after they put the rings on their fingers, and their friends came running.

Brian got to them first, and instantly hugged them both tightly, and kissed the top of Caspian’s head.

“Took you two long enough,” he said fondly. “You can never do things normally, huh?”

“Normal’s boring,” Freddie said with his usual teasing grin. Deacy barged in minutes later, tripping over himself.

“Months!” he cried. “You had those rings for  _ months! _ ”

“We like to take our time,” Roger said, shrugging. He stuck his tongue out at Caspian, who pulled on his hair. “Isn’t that right, Cas?” Caspian cooed at him, tugging harder on his hair; he winced and managed to detangle himself with effort.

“Well, like I said, maybe now Bomi will stop glaring at you,” Brian said.

“Not likely,” Freddie scoffed.

“Never,” Roger said, grinning. “My mum will be thrilled though.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They called their parents the next day. They both knew they’d get a right nagging for keeping it quiet, even just for twenty-four hours, but they both wanted some time to simply be by themselves: just  _ Queen,  _ and then just the two of them and Cas. Besides, if Roger was totally honest he didn’t want to thrust too many people on Freddie: his boyfriend- no, his  _ fiance _ now- still winced when he stood up, he was still exhausted and moved slowly. He was still worn out and in pain, and call Roger crazy, but he doubted having everyone rush to them at once would help.

Jer and Bomi arrived first, of course. Jer instantly looked near tears when she spotted the rings; she clapped, laughing in a way that reminded Roger painfully of Freddie, and hugged them both (though she was at least careful about hugging Freddie).

“Oh, baby, I can help you plan it!” she said cheerfully, holding Freddie’s hands. Freddie’s smile wavered, but he managed to convince Jer that he’d be happy for her help.

Bomi stared Roger down, looking as disapproving as ever. He spotted the ring on Roger’s finger and raised his eyebrows. Roger crossed his arms, easily meeting Bomi’s gaze. If Bomi expected Roger to ask his permission to marry Freddie, he could keep waiting. It wasn’t happening.

But after a few tense moments, Bomi gave an almost approving nod. “Look after him,” he said.

Roger tilted his chin up, holding Caspain tighter. “I will,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “I always do.”

He looked to Freddie, who smiled at him, although he rolled hwho rolled his eyes at Jer’s traditional suggestions, but he smiled at Roger all the same, eyes shining.

Winifred arrived that evening. Her reaction was quite similar to Jer’s; there were tears in her eyes, but she was bouncing with glee, and brimming with suggestions. Unlike Jer, she seemed to understand that Freddie and Roger didn’t want to hear all about tradition.

“And if you need anyone to look after this little chap,” she said, clucking Cas under the chin. “You know where to find me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Winifred ended up staying the night. Honestly, Freddie was happy to have her, she’d always been lovely to him. She’d never once talked down to him. 

If he had to be completely, 100% honest...He preferred having her around, instead of his parents. 

If his parents had stayed, he’d have been nagged about holding Caspian properly, or feeding him too much, or not enough; traditional wedding options would have been shoved down his throat.

Around three in the morning, Cas woke up for another feeding. Freddie stumbled out of bed, and carried Caspian into the living room instead. Roger tiredly offered to sit with him, but Freddie waved it away. Roger could get up when it was his turn.

To his surprise, Winifred joined him within minutes. Freddie flushed red, but she only smiled at the sight of Cas feeding.

“Enjoy it,” she said, yawning. “He’ll be crawling before you know it.”

“If he’s as energetic as Roger, I’m doomed,” Freddie said, smiling. Winifred chuckled, darting into the kitchen; she came back with two glasses of water, and sat next to him on the sofa. 

“How are you feeling, love?” she asked. “Still sore?”

“Still sore,” Freddie confirmed. “They said it could take two months for everything to feel fully normal again.” He pulled Cas back to burp him; Winifred’s face creased in sympathy. She gently stroked Caspian’s fluffy hair; after a moment, she brushed Freddie’s hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“Well,” Winifred said gently. “If you ever need anything, Freddie, I’m only a phonecall away.”

His mother had said the same thing.

How awful was it that Freddie felt more inclined to take Winifred up on that offer instead?

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 25th, 1976** **   
** ** _“Just another day that started out like any other. Just another girl who took my breath away. Then she turned around, took me down, and just another day that I had the best day of my life.” -The Best Day Of My Life, _ ** **Robert D. Palmer**

Christmas was hectic; it always was, but especially with a new baby. 

Tiny as he was, Cas still seemed fascinated by all the bright lights. He kept reaching for the tree, crying out in glee when Roger turned the lights on. He stared at each and every present, and constantly tried to put the wrapping paper in his mouth.

The cats, as per usual, curled up under the tree, watching the proceedings, or sleeping.

Freddie and Roger “helped” Caspian unwrap his presents from everyone else before their parents arrived. Miami had bought a play-mat, Brian bought a bunch of bright picture books; Deacy bought some rubber ducks, which Caspian tried to chew on. Mary and Veronica both bought clothes, Chrissie bought a family of teddies: a dad, a mum and a baby. 

“Aren’t you spoiled?” Freddie cooed to the baby, poking him on the nose. 

“He deserves it,” Roger said with a grin, rolling the remaining wrapping paper into a ball.

“He does,” Freddie said, his eyes softening the way they always did when he looked at Cas. 

Roger couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he cleared up. He glanced at Freddie and Caspian over his shoulder. None of them were dressed yet, but he knew all too well that Freddie would start fussing soon. Freddie’s hair was swept back in a bun that was already collapsing, and Roger eyed the mark on his neck.

“Fred?” he said, and Freddie glanced at him with an inquisitive smile. “What do you think about bonding?”

Freddie’s eyes widened, and his hand went to the mark on his neck. He looked a little flushed, but he grinned. “I’d like that,” he said.

“When you’re better, obviously,” Roger was quick to add. He wasn’t about to risk anything that could hurt Freddie.

“Obviously,” Freddie agreed, poking his tongue out. He kissed the top of Caspian’s head; their baby was still trying to gnaw on one of the rubber ducks.

All the same, Roger couldn’t help but imagine it. He’d never do anything to harm Freddie, or impede his recovery, but damn it all if he didn’t miss sex. Freddie eyed him up and down with that familiar teasing smirk, and Roger supposed it was obvious what he was thinking about.

That didn’t stop him from eyeing Freddie’s ass as he left the room to get ready.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jer, Winifred, Clare, Kashmira and Bomi all quizzed them on wedding ideas of course. Let them interrogate them on locations, colours and guests; it mostly went in one ear and out the other. Even among themselves, their families couldn’t agree.

None of them needed to know they were thinking about bonding. He didn’t want to listen to more of Bomi’s nagging. Besides, it  _ would _ have to wait a while.

But when Roger looked at Freddie, in his dark red shirt, with his ruby bracelet and his hair neatly styled, he had to bite back a sigh. This was going to be a  _ long _ wait.

“Your papa’s gorgeous,” Roger whispered in Caspian’s ear. “And I still say you look like him.”

Caspian reached up and pulled his hair. Roger would take that as agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Brian's stag party and wedding, and hopefully some of Freddie's recovery. I was hoping to fit the party into this chapter, but it just didn't seem to fit.


	50. Irresistible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimpses of Brian's stag party and wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite short tbh 😅 Roger's pining, even when he's got his damn fiance, he's pining.

**January, 1977** **  
** ** _“It's irresistible! Oh, oh, oh; oh, oh, oh, yeah. I love the way- I love the way, I love the way you hurt me, baby. I love the way- I love the way, I love the way you hurt me, baby.” -Irresistible, _ ** **Fall Out Boy**

There were plenty of fans who thought that Brian was just a sweet little nerd. They wouldn’t expect a crazy stag party from him.

They would have been very wrong.

The biggest shock, to Roger, was seeing so many of Brian’s old college friends doing body-shots. And to think he’d once dismissed them as nerds.

Speaking of nerds, the chief nerd himself was most certainly enjoying the lapdance he was receiving from that pretty brunette stripper.

Giggling, Freddie draped himself over Roger’s lap. “Will you want a stripper?” he asked with a pout.

Drunk as he was, Roger considered it. “Nah,” he eventually decided. “You’re more flexible.” He looked around the room and his grip on Freddie tightened as he pressed his nose against the mark on his neck. “And I don’t fancy sharing.”

“I miss Cas,” Freddie said, and Roger was way too drunk to keep up with the abrupt changes in conversation. “Roggie, I miss Cas,” Freddie said again, as if that would summon the baby.

“He’s safe with Kash,,” Roger tried, but Freddie just kept pouting. Roger quickly kissed him, smirking when Freddie giggled.

“Fred…” He tangled his hair in Freddie’s hair, pulling him in again. “You’ve been given the green-light,” he said, lips against Freddie’s ear. Freddie’s next breath wavered, before his fiance abruptly stood up, dragging Roger to his feet.

“Bathroom,” he said, and led the way. Roger decided once more that he  _ loved  _ stag parties.

They didn’t actually have sex in the bathroom (and a tiny part of him mourned that fact), but Freddie was quick to push him into a stall and drop to his knees, leaving Roger to scramble for the lock. Almost as soon as he was done he shoved Freddie against the wall and return the favour.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard later,” he promised, and Freddie laughed at him.

“Sure, darling,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I reckon we’ll pass out first.”

They stumbled back into the main room of the club, and Roger gleefully joined in with the chaos. Honestly, after he had that weird purple looking drink, the night became a total blur. He just knew he woke up with his shirt missing, his head pounding, his jeans half unbuttoned, and one shoe still on.

“Freddie?” Roger croaked out, pressing a hand to his forehead. A tiny, kittenish snore was his answer, and Roger (with more difficulty than he cared to admit) turned his head to face his fiance.

Freddie was curled up in a tiny ball, as per usual. His hair was a royal mess, his eyeliner was still on, and badly smudged now. He was wearing  _ Brian’s  _ shirt for some godforsaken reason, but other than that he was fully dressed, minus his shoes. His own shirt from the night before was draped over a lamp.

Well then. All in all a good night.

Though it looked like Freddie had been right about passing out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing was, neither of them wanted to have sex with the baby in the room, and Freddie got in a mamoth sulk when Roger suggested leaving Caspian to nap in his playpen instead of his crib.

So they somewhat switched the roles.

Roger had expected to have sex again in his own bed, if he was totally honest. But fuck it all, the sofa was comfortable, and he  _ wanted  _ Freddie.

As soon as Roger tugged his shirt off, Freddie’s eyes were glued to him- though he squirmed, blushing, as Roger worked his clothes off in turn. And Roger knew him, he knew what he was thinking.

“You’re beautiful,” Roger said, gently pushing Freddie back. “Absolutely stunning.”

And it may have started slow and gentle, but that soon changed. It had been two months, sue him, he was getting desperate- and underneath it all, was the ever-present knowledge that he nearly lost Freddie. This was  _ his  _ Omega,  _ his  _ fiance, the father of his son, and Roger was  _ not  _ going to lose him.

“On brand though, huh?” Roger panted against Freddie’s neck with a laugh. “Fucking on the sofa.”

His only response was a strangled moan as Freddie wrapped his legs around his waist.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**March 23rd, 1977** **  
** ** _“All I want is to fly with you, all I want is to fall with you- so just give me all of you. It feels impossible (it's not impossible), is it impossible? Say that it's possible! How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing can keep us apart, ‘cause you are the one I was meant to find.” -Rewrite The Stars, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

The church was huge, and completely packed. Brian and Chrissie had picked a blue and silver theme, and Roger had to admit, it looked elegant. Brian looked striking in his tuxedo, and Chrissie looked utterly radiant as she walked down the aisle.

Brian lit up at the sight of her, but the poor bugger still looked petrified. He’d spent a good forty minutes panicking that morning.

To be fair to him though, as soon as Chrissie reached him, he looked utterly relaxed, seemingly unable to look away from her.

Previous concerns aside, Roger was sure they’d be okay.

Later, as he watched Brian and Chrissie share their first dance, he was certain of it.

Smiling, he took Freddie’s hand. “That’ll be us soon,” he whispered, and Frddie completely lit up.

“Yeah,” Freddie said softly, eyes glued to their friends. And then he pouted. “No veils, darling.”

Roger saw that one coming a mile away, and had no complaints. He kissed Freddie’s knuckles, gently tugging his Omega in closer. “No veils,” he agreed. “You don’t even have to go traditional if you don’t want to. You could turn up all in leather for all I care, okay?”

  
Freddie smirked at him, looking far too pleased by the suggestion. “Now  _ there’s _ an idea,” he said with a wink, and then he turned back to beaming at Brian and Chrissie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the boys begin to plan their wedding.


	51. Sit Still, Look Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Freddie begin to plan their wedding, and there's some clashes with the Bulsara family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno how much the drama with the Bulsaras will be focused on; I'm afraid of repeating myself, ya know? But at the same time, there's a lot of years of character development missing, and that could be fun to explore.

**April, 1977** **   
** ** _“Could wake up, and make up, and play dumb, pretending that I need a boy, who's gonna treat me like a toy. I know the other girlies wanna wear expensive things, like diamond rings. But I don't wanna be the puppet that you're playing on a string. This queen don't need a king.” -Sit Still, Look Pretty, _ ** **Daya**

Well then. Wedding planning.

Freddie wanted to tear his hair out.

The very second he mentioned that he and Roger were really making plans now, Jer jumped in. Only hours later, she called him.

“You’re inviting the family, right, baby?” she asked. Freddie, balancing Cas on his hip, didn’t catch on at first.

“You  _ are _ invited, Mama. You know that.”

“No, no, darling- everyone else! Your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your cousins.”

For a moment, Freddie tensed. He tried to imagine his strict, traditional family at his wedding, and immediately recoiled. He knew what they’d expect: they’d expect him to smile and stay quiet, and sweet. They’d expect him to let everyone else plan it, and not say a word. They’d expect him to kneel at the after-party, they’d expect everything to be strictly traditional.

They’d expect the type of wedding they had planned for him and Dazmen.

He knew damn well that at least one of them would be stupid enough to tell Roger to disipline him. He also knew that Roger would flip out if that happened.

And God did he know what they’d say about him having a baby before marriage. And it wouldn’t just be him. He knew what they’d say about Cas too.

“No,” Freddie said, holding Cas closer. His baby cooed at him, mouthing at his chest. Freddie shifted him further up, so that Cas was drooling on his shoulder.

“ _ What? _ Freddie, they’re your  _ family. _ You can’t get married without them! Let me call them, darling, okay? If I tell them, they’ll-”

“They’ll rant about how irresponsible I am,” Freddie said flatly. “I don’t want them there, Mama. I know how they’ll behave.”

“Now, child, don’t be so silly.”

Freddie grit his teeth, closing his eyes against a sudden stab of rage. God, was that Jer’s catchphrase? How many times had she told him over the years to stop  _ being silly?  _ Whenever he spoke up, whenever he said he wasn’t happy, whenever he stood up for himself, he was told to be quiet and stop being so silly.

It was his family’s mantra during his engagement to Dazmen.

_ Don’t be so silly. Stop being childish. Do your duty. Be grateful. Don’t take that tone with me. Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass the family. Smile, stand up straight, show some gratitude. _

_ No. _

“It’s my wedding,” Freddie said coldly. “Understand that, Mama? It’s  _ my _ wedding, and I’ll invite who I want. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t want a crowd of people who will only insult me the whole day.”

“They wouldn’t,” Jer insisted. “They’ll be happy for you.”

“Don’t be so silly,” Freddie mocked before he could stop himself. “I don’t want them there, Mama.”

“Baby-”

“I need to go feed Cas.” He hung up and took the phone off the hook.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing was, it kept on like that. Jer told him, in disappointed tones, that she and Bomi had been receiving angry phone calls from the family, furious at the lack of invitations, furious that they had to be told by Bomi; according to Bomi, his brother Sepehr was also furious that Roger didn’t ask Bomi’s permission to propose.

Freddie rather suspected he was actually getting the watered-down version of events. He knew his family too well to think they’d kept it at anger at being left out. He knew what they thought of Omegas.

_ Fuck it, _ he told himself. He refused to feel guilty, as they’d made him feel so many times over the years. He didn’t owe them an invitation. They’d belittled and insulted him from the moment he presented- so why  _ did _ he still feel bad?

“They may have been awful, but they’re still family,” Mary said gently. “They drilled it into you that you owed them utter obedience and respect. That won’t magically go away.”

“I wish it would,” Freddie muttered, burping Cas. The baby looked surprised every time he burped, and Mary giggled at him, poking his chubby cheek.

“Give it time,” Mary said. She smiled at him. “You need to do what’s best for you, Freddie. Like you told your mother, it’s your wedding. You and Rog get to decide the guest list.”

“I’m pretty sure Roger would kill them if they showed up,” Freddie said.

“Probably,” Mary agreed, and her eyes dimmed when she frowned. “I’m tempted too.”

A part of him said he should defend his family. The old mantra was there, on the tip of his tongue:  _ Oh, it’s not that bad, I’m over-reacting. I’m being hysterical, I’m being childish; I’m being silly, I’m being selfish. They love me really. I owe them respect for taking care of me.  _ He bit it back with difficulty. They hadn’t looked after him, and he knew it all too well. He’d run away for that very reason.

His parents had improved. That didn’t mean he was going to let either of them take over the plans. That didn’t mean he owed the rest of his family anything.

It was still a struggle.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Late in the night, the city's asleep. Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. Change my priorities; the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury. So prove to me I'm your American Queen, and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat, and we rule the kingdom inside my room. 'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars, with their Range Rovers and their Jaguars, never took me quite where you do.” -King of My Heart, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Roger had quickly discovered that being a new parent, planning and wedding, and trying to balance promotional work was one hell of a challenge. They couldn’t tour any time soon, and of course some people were utter dicks about that- but the fans mostly seemed pleased to see him and Freddie with their baby, they seemed happy to let Brian have some peace with Chrissie.

He grinned as he watched Veronica play peek-a-boo with Robert and Cas. Robert seemed fascinated by Caspian, constantly reaching to poke him with a curious little pout.

“Lil’,” he lisped.

“Very little,” Freddie agreed with a smile.

“Do you like Cas, darling?” Veronica asked. Robert nodded.

“Kid has good taste,” Roger said, lounging against the doorframe.

“Of course he does,” Deacy teased. “He’s my kid.” He looked between Roger and Freddie, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his wife. “Speaking of good taste- got any more ideas for the wedding?”

“We just know we want it to be flashy,” Roger said, with a somewhat bashful shrug. “Bright colours, somewhere gorgeous.”

“And your parents?” Deacy asked Freddie. “Still being...Difficult?”

“Yes,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. He kissed the top of Caspian’s head, the baby cuddled on his lap. Roger joined them all on the floor, sticking his tongue out at Robert.

“They said Nanami cried,” Freddie admitted, his voice little more than an ashamed whisper. “When she last called. She cried because I wouldn’t change my mind.” He looked tiny, and Roger could so easily imagine the frightened seventeen-year-old who’d made a desperate bid for freedom. He wrapped an arm around him, internally furious at the idea that the Bulsaras thought they had any right to tell Freddie what to do, after everything they did. 

And Freddie must have been angrier than even Roger realised, because his eyes hardened. “But I know what she’d do if she came,” Freddie continued. “She’d be...She’d be condescending, or passive-aggressive...They all would. Or maybe just outright aggressive.”

“You deserve better,” Veronica said quietly.

“You do,” Roger agreed; he’d always thought so, always said so. “And you know what, Fred? Fuck ‘em. You don’t want them, I don’t want them. There’s no reason to feel guilty. This is about  _ us, _ not them. And I dunno about you, but I’m not about to let them ruin it.”

Freddie leaned against him, idly stroking Caspian’s hair. “Thanks, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May…**

It was, Brian and Mary, surprisingly enough, who helped find a list of three churches that suited their style perfectly: all sprawling and beautiful, all dramatic with a bit of flare. All pretty private, and it would be easy to keep the press away if they got some security.

To no one’s surprise, Jer and Bomi didn’t look too happy as Freddie and Roger showed them and Winifred the three locations.

“Aren’t you keeping any Zoroastrian traditions?” Bomi asked pointedly.

Freddie paused and looked over his shoulder with a little frown. “I don’t think I will,” he said, and turned away again. It was such a little thing, but Roger was still proud of him.

At least Winifred was smiling.

In the end, they picked a favourite surprisingly fast: the church was huge, quite Gothic really, with a pretty garden. Freddie seemed delighted with it, skipping about and craning his neck to see every detail of the architecture. That was more than enough for Roger, but he had to admit he loved the place himself. He was surprised by just how much he liked it, within minutes of arrival.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next step was clothes. But first, they needed to pick a colour scheme.

“Something bold and bright,” Freddie said, biting his thumb. Roger lay on his side, on the floor next to Cas on his soft play-rug. 

“Purple?” Roger suggested. “Red? Gold? I feel like we’d be copying Brian if we picked blue.”

“I like purple,” Freddie said, lying down on Cas’s other side. “Or- maybe yellow?”

“I swear it’s like every colour is suddenly hideous,” Roger laughed, poking Caspian’s stomach. The baby gurgled and squealed, waving his tiny fists. 

“I know what you mean, darling,” Freddie said with a rueful smile, stretching like the cats. Speak of the devil, all three came prowling into the room and curled up on the floor with them. Freddie idly stroked Tom’s head, eyes soft and thoughtful.

“Well, darling, we’ve already found a church. How hard can picking some colours really be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Famous last words, Fred 😂


	52. Friends Will Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bulsaras try to sort their issues out. Mary reclaims her title as Freddie's stylist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hey. Guess who's going to London in two weeks? 👀👀 I'm going to see Dear Evan Hansen and Hamilton, I'm so damn excited! 💕💕

**May 6th, 1977** **  
** ** _“Every day I fight a war against the mirror; I can't take the person starin' back at me. I'm a hazard to myself. Don't let me get me! I'm my own worst enemy. It's bad when you annoy yourself; so irritating. Don't wanna be my friend no more, I wanna be somebody else.” -Don’t Let Me Get Me, _ ** **P!NK**

Freddie was half-tempted to not ask Jer to join him in shopping. If he had to listen to one more lecture about how he was letting their culture down, he’d scream right there in the boutique. 

But he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

All the same, he was damn glad to have Kash with him. At least Jer would listen to _ her. _

It was him, Kashmira, Winifred, Jer, Mary, Deacy, Brian, and Veronica, who offered assistance at the last minute, which Freddie gladly accepted. It felt strange not having Roger with him, but that was rather the point; Roger was the groom, he wasn’t meant to see Freddie’s outfit until the wedding itself. Freddie wasn’t so sure if he believed it was _ actually _bad luck, but he had to admit that he liked the idea of Roger not seeing it until the wedding: it was more of a surprise that way. Besides, Freddie wasn’t going shopping with Roger tomorrow, so it went both ways.

Still, he fretted about leaving Cas.

“He’s fine,” Brian said patiently. “He’s with Rog and Chrissie.”

“We owe them,” Deacy sighed. “They’re stuck with two babies for the day.”

None of them had been oblivious to the dopey smile Brian had on his face as Chrissie cooed at the babies when they left. Behind Brian, Veronica made kissy faces, smiling innocently when he turned around.

They were checking out a rather large boutique in the heart of London that proudly proclaimed it catered to Alphas, Betas and Omegas alike. And yet...Nothing felt right.

The assistant was perfectly lovely; a tall Omega woman named Violet. She took one look at Freddie and found four suits that admittedly looked lovely on him right away. All the same, Freddie _ liked _ them, but he didn’t _ love _them.

“If you don’t love them, they’re not the right ones,” Violet said, shrugging with a smile. “Don’t worry, love, we’ll find you something gorgeous.”

It seemed to be easier said than done.

“Do you have a theme in mind for the wedding?” Violet asked. “Classical, vintage, modern- that sort of thing.”

“Er…” Freddie bit his lip, ignoring Jer’s frown. “It’s sort of a mix of glamour and classic if you get me, darling.” Violet nodded with an encouraging smile, and Freddie continued; “We’ve picked yellow and grey for the theme.”

“We can find something nice and bright for you then,” Violet said. “Soft, not too dark.”

She quickly found multiple white suits, and suits in a soft shade of pearly grey, which were _ better, _ but nothing _ clicked, _and Freddie felt near tears of frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Winifred said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve plenty of time, and there’s so many shops and boutiques in London.”

“I thought it would be easier,” Freddie admitted. “I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time.”

“Not at all,” Mary said. She winked at him, hands on her hips. “Trust your old stylist, Fred.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. He had to admit, he’d trust Mary to find something stunning. She always did.

“Are you sure you won’t at least _ try _a veil on?” Jer asked.

_ “Mama,” _ Kashmira groaned.

“You’d look beautiful, baby,” Jer persisted. Freddie clenched his fists and took a few deep breaths, willing himself to stay calm. 

“I don’t want to,” he said. “Can you please just respect that?”

“Darling, you’re not keeping _ any _ Zoroastrian traditions-”

_ “I don’t want to.” _ Freddie rounded on her, feeling a flash of embarrassment that so many of his friends were watching, knowing damn well Violet could hear every word, knowing it was likely that other people in the shop could hear them. “Can’t you just _ listen _ to me? Even if I wore something traditional, I wouldn’t wear a veil, I wouldn’t pierce my ears, I wouldn’t kneel, or let Roger handle everything- _ or you and Papa. _ Understand? I’m not inviting the family, I’m not going traditional, I’m doing this _ my _way.”

Jer looked perfectly stunned; she even flinched back, a wounded look in her eyes.

Freddie turned away, hating how close to tears he felt. Deacy linked arms with him, and Kashmira stepped in between Jer and Freddie.

“Mama, you promised,” she said quietly. At that, Jer nodded, somehow looking even smaller than usual.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It felt like an utter flop of a day. Freddie was quiet in the backseat of Deacy’s car, slumped against the side, with Mary next to him. Brian was driving Winifred. Kashmira had all but dragged Jer to her own car, muttering in Gujarati. 

“Freddie, sweetie,” Mary said quietly, and Freddie glanced at her, his hair falling into his eyes. She smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand. “How about I start looking around for clothes?” she asked. “I’ll find something beautiful, I promise.”

“Thanks, darling,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. 

He felt a little better, but he felt _ much _better when he got home. He ran straight to Roger and flung himself into Roger’s arms, instantly relaxing when he saw Caspian and Robert lying on Caspian’s playmat, kicking about and cooing. Chrissie knelt on the floor, keeping a watchful eye on them.

“You okay, Fred?” Roger asked, pushing his hair back.

“...I really hate my parents sometimes,” Freddie said, squeezing his eyes shut. There was a brief pause before Roger kissed his forehead, and led him over to Caspian. To be fair to him, he didn’t start interrogating him, or refute what Freddie said.

“Any luck?” Chrissie asked.

“None,” Freddie said, lying flat on his back so he was nose to nose with Caspian, smiling despite himself when the baby reached out to slap him on the nose. “Who knew shopping for suits could be so hard?”

“Trust me, I remember the feeling,” Deacy said with a wry smile.

“Oh yeah,” Brian said, nodding. He turned to Roger with a teasing grin. “You’ll be going mad tomorrow, mate.”

“Thanks,” Roger said, rolling his eyes, but he was grinning. “But remember, _ you’re _ the saps who have to put up with me.”

Brian and Deacy looked terrified. Rightly so.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“You fight about money, 'bout me and my brother; and this I come home to, this is my shelter. It ain't easy growing up in World War Three, never knowing what love could be, you'll see, I don't want love to destroy me, like it has done my family. Can we work it out? (Can we?) Can we be a family? (Can we?)” -Family Portrait, _ ** **P!NK**

Freddie had just finished dressing Caspian when there was a knock on the door. Frowning, he lifted Caspian, easily hopping over the cats and went to the door.

To his surprise, it was his parents, both looking unusually shamefaced, and a plainly simmering Kashmira.

“Hey, Freddie,” Kash said, smiling at him and Cas, though she scowled at their parents. “Can we come in?”

“...Alright?” Freddie stepped aside and let them in. Something weird had to be going on, because his parents didn’t sit until he invited them to. He handed Caspian to Kashmira, and he was in for yet another shock: as he went to the kitchen, Jer offered to help him make the tea.

“I’m okay, Mama,” Freddie said. Oh God, someone was dying, weren’t they? Someone was ill, or injured- maybe Nanami was in hospital, maybe it was her arthritis, or Bapuji’s heart, or-

“We’re sorry,” Bomi said quietly, so quietly that Freddie barely heard him, but he did, and it nearly made him drop the tray.

“I- pardon?” Freddie set the tray down, sat next to Kashmira on the sofa, and took Caspian back. His son was sucking on his fist, watching everyone almost solemnly, his eyes a dark green-blue, more like Roger’s in shape with every passing day.

“We’re sorry,” Bomi repeated. “You’re right, child, it’s your wedding, and...we should respect that.”

“You should respect _ Freddie, _” Kashmira said, so coldly that Freddie instantly suspected this wasn’t the first time she’d said so.

Jer nodded, head lowered. “I’m sorry for yesterday, baby,” she said, twisting her necklace around her fingers. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“We said we’d try to do better,” Bomi continued. “And we haven’t lately.”

Stunned, Freddie turned to Kashmira. “What did you do?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

His sister smirked at him, and happily poked Cas on the nose. “I basically knocked their heads together,” she said. Jer winced, and Bomi looked as uncomfortable as Freddie had ever seen him.

“We’re sorry,” Jer said again, almost pleadingly.

For a moment, Freddie hesitated, but eventually he nodded. “Okay,” he said, holding Caspian close. “I believe you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**May 10th, 1977** **  
** ** _“It's not easy love, but you've got friends you can trust. Friends will be friends. When you're in need of love, they give you care and attention. Friends will be friends. When you're through with life and all hope is lost, hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends, right ‘til the end!” -Friends Will Be Friends, _ ** **Queen**

Mary burst into the flat with a grin, an entire portfolio in her arms.

“Hear me out,” she said excitedly. “Traditional with a twist. Your own added flare, you with me?” She spread out sheets and sheets of pictures cut from magazines, and her own sketches. “You looked great in that grey suit that Violet found, but what if we make it more silvery? It would look amazing with the yellow, and-” She was off, babbling a mile a minute in a way she rarely did, eyes shining.

The pictures and sketches were all of traditional clothing, but altered slightly to suit Freddie’s style. One of the traditional coats had short sleeves, another had no sleeves at all. She’d found pictures of diamond and pearl jewellery, pants studded with sapphires...One thing you had to say for Mary, she didn’t do things half-way.

“And we could find you a- oh, what are they called? You know, sweetie, that traditional headdress, it’s got all those jewels- sort of drapes over your head…”

“A Maang Tika?” Freddie asked, smirking in amusement. Mary nodded rapidly, pushing two sketches towards him. 

“I found two really great boutiques that sell traditional stuff,” she said. “We can find something, and then do it up whatever way we want! We can both sew, so why not?” Her smile widened hopefully. “Wanna try it? We could always just find some bright fabric to make a shirt to go with a tux instead.”

“Let’s go,” Freddie said, beaming. He may not love the idea of traditional, but the idea had merit. They _ could _both sew, Freddie used to make his own clothes for pity’s sake, but the idea of making of altering his own wedding attire hadn’t occurred to him. 

Besides, if he hated everything (and he was pretty sure he would) then they could always follow Mary’s second idea, and just buy some nice fabrics to make a shirt from.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Needless to say, Freddie was pretty stunned when the shop assistant brought them two outfits, following Mary’s description: one was a soft silver-grey with a darker grey and gold pattern, and bright yellow pants. The other was a very pale yellow with white trimmings and flowing sleeves.

Neither of them were _ perfect. _ They both needed some fixing. But Freddie could easily picture what he’d do to _ make _them perfect. He wandered to a jewellery stand and happily found some diamond bangles, a diamond and pearl necklace, and a thin matching Maang Tika, which had some tiny sapphires thrown in, so small that Freddie nearly missed them. There was a sheath of sheer golden fabric, and Freddie ran a finger over it with a little frown. He still wouldn’t wear a veil, but he wondered if he could do something with the fabric...

“Okay, so here’s an idea,” Mary said, interrupting his thoughts and vibrating with excitement. “We can cut the sleeves- make them short, or get rid of them entirely, whatever you want- we could alter the necklines and the hems, the grey one’s train is _ really _ long, but we could always cut that too, and the yellow one’s a bit too big for you, but-”

“It’s brilliant,” Freddie interrupted her with a grin. Mary bounced on the spot, holding the grey outfit close.

“No veils?” she asked with a smirk.

“No veils,” Freddie confirmed, laughing.

“You won’t need one anyway,” Mary said. “Because we’re going to make you look so stunning that Roger will _ drool. _”

“Sounds like a good plan to me, darling,” Freddie said, and happily went to pay for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary is happy to style Freddie again 👍 When in doubt, follow your artists instincts.
> 
> Not sure if I'm gonna cover their stag parties; if I don't, we'll be moving straight onto the wedding!


	53. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me long enough to get here, eh? 😂 But here we are: the Froger wedding 💕

**July 12th, 1977** **   
** ** _“Keep holding on, ‘cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through. Just stay strong, ‘cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you. There's nothing you could say. Nothing you could do. There's no other way when it comes to the truth.” -Keep Holding On, _ ** **Avril Lavigne**

In the end, they combined their stag nights. And why not? After all, they shared too many mutual friends to count, they got to spend the night together, and go absolutely mental.

If Freddie was honest, things got blurry after his fourth glass of champagne. Very blurry indeed. 

He cracked an eye open, resisting the urge to groan as his head immediately started to pound. Kashmira had once more been an utter angel and agreed to take Caspian for the night, so the flat was quiet, and Freddie’s back was pressed against Roger’s chest. 

On one hand, it had been a great night. On the other hand, he severely regretted it.

He regretted it even more when the phone began to ring.

Behind him, Roger swore, his grip on Freddie tightening.

“Who the  _ fuck? _ ” he grumbled, swearing again when Freddie reluctantly sat up, yawning. No way any of their friends were in any condition to call them yet. It had to be a family member.

Sure enough, it was Jer. Freddie swayed on the spot as she rapidly began to speak, struggling to keep his eyes open, trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t hungover. 

“-I just think an  _ Ardani  _ would be very sweet, darling, and-”

“Okay,” Freddie interrupted. Anything to get back to bed. “Okay, Mama, I’ll have one- but  _ you  _ have to ask Winifred.”

His mother made a happy little sound and promised she would. Freddie went straight back to bed, feeling considerably less woozy when he curled back up in Roger’s arms.

And if they slept most of the day away, so what?

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July 19th…**

Freddie may have agreed to an  _ Ardani,  _ but he put his foot down about Roger being there. Jer tutted and pouted, but let him have his way in the end. She arrived at the flat with Winifred and Clare, armed with presents. Freddie cradled Caspian on his lap, laughing when Cas immediately reached out for the presents, entranced by the bright wrapping paper and ribbons.

“Not for you, mate,” Roger said, poking Cas on the nose. “Those are for your papa. We’ll spoil you later.”

“You  _ always _ spoil him,” Clare pointed out.

“He deserves it,” Freddie and Roger said in unison. None of the women argued; if anything, they all looked like they agreed.

And if Freddie was surprised to see Jer and Winifred chatting like old friends, then Jer was downright shocked when Freddie invited her to get her henna done with him and Kashmira.

“You’re getting henna?” she asked, delighted. She clapped her hands when Freddie nodded, eyes shining.

One of Jer’s presents was two pairs of bangles: two gold, two diamond. Absolutely perfect for Freddie’s outfit, and she hadn’t even seen it. No one had, except for Freddie and Mary- it was at Mary’s right now, for safe-keeping, to prevent Roger from snooping.

Freddie immediately slipped the bangles on, jiggling his wrists so they clacked together, making Cas giggle. Jer beamed at him, and squeezed his hand. It felt like another apology.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July 22nd, London, 1977** **   
** ** _“We were strangers, starting out on a journey; never dreaming what we'd have to go through. Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing at the beginning with you. No one told me I was going to find you. Unexpected, what you did to my heart. When I lost hope, you were there to remind me this is the start.” -At The Beginning, _ ** **Richard Marx and Donna Lewis**

The wedding day. God, it almost didn’t feel real. Months and months of planning, and it was suddenly here. It felt like a lifetime. It felt like five seconds. 

Freddie, admittedly reluctantly, handed Caspian to his father while he got ready. He kept squinting at his henna, certain he’d find a glaringly obvious glaw that would ruin everything, but it all looked perfect. Kashmira helped arrange his hair, Deacy and Mary laid the clothes out, making sure everything was still in perfect condition. Jer bustled about, doing last minute double-checks on all the details, insisting on helping Freddie with his eyeliner.

And then came the wedding attire. 

In the end, Freddie had gone for the silver-grey outfit. He’d cut some of the train off, so it wasn’t so long (and he was a lot less nervous about tripping now), as well as cutting the sleeves off entirely, to fully show off his bangles, and a gold armband that Kashmira had bought him. He and Mary had sewn the sheer gold fabric to the inside of the outfit, adding a layer that shimmered and caught the eye as he moved. Mary helped embroider little glittering gems around the hem of the coat.

It was one of the most traditional things he’d ever worn, and yet wasn’t at the same time. He couldn’t help but be thrilled when he looked in the mirror.

Mary clapped her hands over her mouth, looking close to tears.

“Oh,  _ Fred, _ ” she said, and rapidly waved her hands in front of her eyes. “Oh, damn it, I’ll ruin my mascara.”

Freddie winked at her, and happily took the bouquet of yellow and white roses from Deacy (who was looking very dashing in his soft grey tux and yellow shirt). One last glance in the mirror, one last twitch of his coat to straighten it, one last deep breath, and they were on their way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger felt like vomiting. 

He was thrilled, he was excited beyond belief...And he was utterly terrified too. The old insecurities raised their ugly heads, hissing at him until his head hurt. He went through all the coping mechanisms his therapist had given him, but it didn’t feel like anything was working. Even Brian’s reassuring smile didn’t help. His heart was pounding.

And then Freddie walked in. Just like that, everything was okay. Everything was  _ perfect. _

Roger still felt like he couldn’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason.

Freddie looked absolutely stunning. Well, when didn’t he? But now...Now he was utterly breathtaking. He walked down the aisle, arms linked with his parents, and he utterly beamed when he saw Roger. He was too beautiful to be real, an absolute vision in silver and yellow, and leave it to Freddie to take a traditional outfit and make it entirely his own. 

Roger didn’t doubt there’d be dozens of people scrambling to re-create that look once the photos inevitably made their way to the public.

Freddie whispered something to his parents as they reached the altar and then, grinning, he happily took Roger’s hand.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hey,” Roger whispered, and he knew he was smiling like an utter sap, and he didn’t care one bit. “You look gorgeous.”

“Not so bad yourself,” Freddie said, grin widening; he didn’t cover his teeth, or duck his head. He easily met Roger’s gaze, all but bouncing in excitement. Roger quite knew the feeling. It was a sudden struggle to stand still.

Then the ceremony began. Roger knew he should focus on what the priest was saying, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from Freddie.

“And do you, Roger, take this Omega to be your husband?”

“Huh?” Roger was abruptly snapped out of it, blinking rapidly. Snickers and giggles rang out, Freddie’s among them, and Roger grinned, embarrassed- but he took Freddie’s hand and quickly said, “I do.”

“And do you, Freddie, take this Alpha to be your husband?”

“I do,” Freddie said, smiling down at their clasped hands.

The priest smiled indulgently, and nodded. “Then I pronounce you married.” His smile took on a mischievous edge as he added, “You may kiss your husband.”

Roger was all too happy to comply. He barely registered everyone clapping. He knew Deacy was crying, he knew Brian was cheering...But all he could focus on right now was Freddie.

_ Mine, mine, mine. _

“Love you, Fred,” Roger said as they pulled back, his hand still cupping the back of Freddie’s head.

Freddie’s eyes were shining, his laugh was a little shaky. “I love you too, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home. I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets; to carry love, to carry children of our own. We are still kids, but we're so in love, fighting against all odds. I know we'll be alright this time. Darling, just hold my hand, be my girl, I'll be your man; I see my future in your eyes.” -Perfect, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

Admittedly, even Roger felt like crying as they shared their first dance. Brian, Deacy and Elton were on the little stage, and Elton was singing. Jer and Winifred were crying quite openly. Mary held Caspian for them, swaying in her seat in time to the tune, smiling softly. Chrissie had Brian’s precious camera, filming the whole thing, though they had a professional to do that too. 

“I love you, darling,” Freddie whispered, his forehead resting on Roger’s shoulder. 

Roger’s heart felt like bursting. Grinning, a laugh escaping before he could stop it, Roger lifted Freddie straight up and spun him around, delighting in his husband’s  _ (his husband’s!)  _ laughter. 

“You’re amazing,” Roger told him, voice cracking despite himself. “Fucking hell, I love you.” For a moment, he wasn’t even sure how to express it all. He thought of everything: every little thing, right from the moment they met, up until now, right now, this utterly amazing day, with this utterly amazing Omega in his arms. His best friend. His husband. The father of his son. Love of his life.

“I love you,” he repeated softly, and Freddie, still in his arms, clinging to him for safety, leaned down to kiss him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Once, Freddie had imagined his wedding night with utter terror. He hadn’t been able to fathom the mere idea of letting Dazmen Yazadi near him.

This was very different from those old nightmares. He felt safe. More than anything, he felt loved, and safe, and cared for. Protected, as he always was when Roger was there.

He’d been loathe to once more leave Caspian behind, and for a moment he’d felt dangerously near tears as Deacy and Veronica carried the sleeping baby away. But soon enough, those worries were forgotten.

The hotel suite was huge, all plush carpets and soft pink decor. Not exactly Roger’s kind of room, but quite up Freddie’s alley.

Roger was quick to shrug off his suit, dropping the jacket and gold waistcoat (properly fitted and embroidered by Mary, of course) to the floor, tossing his tie onto the nightstand, and leaving his shirt draped over a chair- but he was much more careful with helping Freddie out of his clothes.

Freddie went to work on untangling the jewels in his hair, carefully leaving the bracelets and armband on the coffee table, smiling over his shoulder at Roger. Perhaps it was stupid to feel so shy, it wasn’t as if they were new to sex, but they were going to  _ bond.  _ That was new. That was  _ huge. _

The look on Roger’s face as the last of Freddie’s clothes dropped to the floor would never get old. That mix of awe and love, making him look much softer than usual. He gently brushed Freddie’s hair off his face, running his thumb over Freddie’s cheekbone.

“I love you,” he said yet again, and Freddie smiled, laying his hand on top of Roger’s.

“I love you too, Roggie.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They were well used to sex, but Freddie had to admit it felt different than usual. More emotional than ever, and that was surely saying something. He clung to Roger, his nails digging into his husband’s arms, arching his back and gasping as Roger worked him open.

“Eager,” Roger teased.

“Oh, like you’re not?” Freddie grouched, biting back another whimper.

“Touche,” Roger said, finally pulling his fingers out, before gently spreading Freddie’s legs further. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Freddie said, nodding quickly.  _ More than okay. Fucking brilliant. Perfect. Please don’t stop.  _ Roger still took it slow, and Freddie’s breathing hitched as he pushed in, scrambling to hold onto Roger again, to ground himself.

“Love you,” Roger breathed against his neck, before slowly beginning to thrust.

It was probably the slowest they’d ever gone. It felt like every romantic cliche that Freddie had ever read about, and he _ loved _ it. It was perfect. The very opposite of what he’d once feared.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his instincts take over, urging him along, willing him to submit. His own scent was suddenly overwhelming, even to himself, and Roger growled, giving a suddenly sharp thrust, his grip on Freddie tightening.

“You’re sure?” he checked.

“Yes,” Freddie whispered, baring his throat, moaning as Roger caught his prostate, shivering as Roger’s scent grew stronger.

And then the knot began to swell and Roger bit down where Freddie’s neck met his shoulder.

Freddie wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was overwhelming. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt at all: it stung, quite noticeably so, but he was still moaning and gasping, urging Roger on, tightly looping his legs around Roger’s waist, pulling him in deeper.

“Roggie,  _ Rog, _ I-” Freddie broke off with a ragged sob, and Roger growled again, still pressed against Freddie’s neck. He reached between them, and quickly began to jerk Freddie off, letting out a smug little noise when Freddie quickly came, shivering, jerking, and outright  _ screaming,  _ clawing at Roger’s back. 

For a moment or two, everything blurred, but then the knot reached its peak and Roger came with a low groan, biting down on Freddie’s neck again so much it hurt, but Freddie couldn’t bring himself to care, not at all. He felt almost lightheaded, struggling to orientate himself. He let out a tiny, involuntary groan every time Roger so much as breathed against the newly formed bond mark throbbing on his neck- he’d known they were sensitive, especially at first, but it still took him by surprise.

And- well then. Roger couldn’t pull out yet. Not for five minutes at the minimum. That was the average, he was sure. Five minutes minimum, ten minutes maximum. He couldn’t quite remember, he felt too dazed to focus.

As they lay there, catching their breath, as Roger gently ran his hands over Freddie, purring in contentment, Freddie found himself hoping it  _ would _ be ten minutes. The knot felt huge, as he’d always been told, and he couldn’t quite get used to it. He squirmed as Roger settled, giggling when he groaned, giving Freddie’s hip a small pinch.

“Knock it off,” Roger said tiredly. He bit the bond mark, grinning when Freddie’s hips jerked. Abruptly, he flipped them, so that Freddie was now resting on Roger’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Roger asked, cupping Freddie’s face in his hands. “Does it hurt?”

Truth be told, it did sting- and Freddie loved it. It felt  _ right, _ he didn’t know how else to put it.

“I feel great, darling,” Freddie said, leaning down to kiss him, shivering as the knot shifted with him. “I feel wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, soulmates ❤


	54. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We move forward. Freddie makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time-skip ahead! We're moving forward now, and a certain Mr Freestone arrives on the scene.

**August, London England, 1978****  
** ** _“Don't stop, baby; don't stop, baby, now. Hold on tight to this roller coaster ride. And if you're loving this, just give me one more kiss, ‘cause you ain't seen nothing yet. Just let go, if you don't, we'll never know. So if you're loving this, just give me one more kiss, ‘cause you ain't seen nothing yet.” -You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet, _ ** **Avril Lavigne**

Freddie was in the middle of dressing Caspian when the phone rang.

“Roggie!” he called.

“On it!” Roger called back. He heard his husband answer the phone, and some quiet murmurings. Freddie finished dressing Caspian in a little set of dungarees and stripey yellow-and-white shit, and white shoes. 

If you asked Freddie, Cas was looking more and more like Roger every day. He wasn’t quite as dark as Freddie, nor as pale as Roger, but he had thick brown hair, and green-blue eyes, more like Roger’s in shape than ever before, and Roger’s nose, even Roger’s ears and arch of his eyebrows. 

_ Luckily, _ Freddie thought wryly. _ He doesn’t have Rog’s temper. _

Almost as if reading his mind, Caspian giggled, reaching up for him. Freddie picked him up just as Roger called for him.

“Freddie! Fred, get in here!” He didn’t sound angry. He sounded excited.

Freddie hurried to him, Cas still clasped in his arms. As soon as they appeared in the doorway, Roger thrust the phone into his hands, plucking Cas away with ease. He was grinning fit to burst, looking utterly delighted.

Confused, Freddie held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello there, is this Freddie Mercury?” 

He didn’t recognise the speaker’s voice, but he answered all the same; “Speaking.” God, he hoped it wasn’t an interview. But surely Roger wouldn’t be looking so happy over an interview?

“Lovely! My name’s Rosaline, Mr Mercury, and I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Freddie asked, more wary than ever.

“We’re organising a charity event for the Royal Ballet, Mr Mercury- we were wondering if you’d like to take part?” Wait..._ What? _He’d heard they were planning some charity thing or other, but he didn’t know much about it. Still, he’d heard they were looking for some singers.

“To sing?” Freddie asked.

“Well, yes,” Rosaline said. “But dancing too.”

Freddie clutched the phone tighter, biting his lip. Next to him, Roger was watching intently, still smiling. He wanted to say yes. He so badly wanted to say yes, but…

“Oh, darling, I’m not a ballet dancer,” Freddie said, tugging his hair.

Rosaline giggled, a faint static noise coming over the line as she did. “No need to worry, sir,” she said (and it was still so bizarre being addressed as _ sir. _) “You’d be given lessons. We’re not expecting a prima ballerina- we’ll work with your level.”

“Level zero,” Freddie laughed weakly, still reeling. Were they _ serious? _He loved ballet, he’d always wished he’d been able to do it properly- ballerinas were so graceful, so elegant and strong, and he’d always admired them- but he wasn’t much of a dancer. He just did whatever he felt like doing in the moment. He’d never really learned any routines, and sure he could kick his leg up over his head, but that was about it.

But Rosaline giggled again, and said they could work with that.

“So, are you interested?”

Freddie bit his lip, and glanced at Roger again. His husband smiled encouragingly, Caspian wriggled impatiently, wanting to be put down.

Shyly, Freddie returned Roger’s smile and said, “I’ll do it, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**August 10th…** **  
** ** _“Walk, walk on over there, ‘cause I'm too fly to care, oh yeah. Your words don't mean a thing, I'm not listening. Keep talking, all I know is Mama told me not to waste my life. She said ‘Spread your wings, my little butterfly. Don't let what they say keep you up at night. And they can't detain you. 'Cause wings are made to fly!’” -Wings, _ ** **Little Mix**

Freddie felt terribly nervous as he arrived at rehearsals. A part of him still felt like this was all some joke. 

But it seemed they were serious, because when Freddie gave his name to the smiling blonde Beta at the desk, she utterly beamed at him and called for someone called Yasmine.

A tall, dark Alpha woman appeared, at least four inches taller than Freddie, somewhere in her early forties, if Freddie had to guess. She moved so gracefully that it made Freddie’s chest ache. She held her head high, her shoulders straight, every inch of her poised and perfect, not a hair out of place. Intimidating, if he was honest. He looked at her outfit (a black leotard, silver tights and a little silver skirt) and felt suddenly scruffy in his Mickey Mouse t-shirt and leggings.

All the same, she smiled at him, instantly softening.

“Lovely to meet you, sweetheart,” she said, her voice slightly husky. She held her hand out, and Freddie went to shake it. He was in for a pleasant surprise when she kissed his knuckles and patted his hand.

“Let’s get you set up,” Yasmine said. “Follow me, little one.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


She led him to a room full of costumes, accessories and shoes. Inside, a tall Omega man was sorting through a rack of dresses that looked like they’d seen better days. He was very tall indeed, easily as tall as Brian, with thick brown hair; quite fat with a friendly smile and shy eyes. He smelled like freshly baked bread and cookies.

“Peter, darling, this is our guest, Freddie Mercury. Freddie, this is Peter Freestone.”

Peter smiled at him shyly, ducking his head slightly.

“Hello, darling,” Freddie said.

“Hello.”

“Can you find him some shoes, Peter, love?” Yasmine asked.

Peter nodded. “No problem,” he said, gesturing Freddie forward. He looked at Freddie almost warily, like he expected Freddie to suddenly shout at him. It was a look that Freddie was all too familiar with- how many times had he seen such a look on his own reflection in the mirror?

Freddie watched him for a moment, before he was distracted by all the costumes. He walked slowly around the room, running a finger idly over some necklaces and tiara, biting back a fit of giggles at a particularly sheer costume. He wouldn’t even wear it, which was truly saying something.

“You’re in charge of costumes?” Freddie asked, and Peter shrugged, still looking bashful.

“Well, me and Oscar,” he said, glancing away.

It didn’t take long to find shoes that fit. Peter found him a white pair, and Freddie sat on a bench, kicking his feet out, testing how well they fit. To his surprise, they were perfect. Fit like a glove, in fact. Clearly, Peter knew what he was doing- even Freddie sometimes struggled to find shoes that fit properly.

“Sounds like fun,” Freddie said, standing up to rock up and down on his toes, arms extended. Peter laughed at him, cheeks flushed.

“Seems more fun to do _ your _ job,” he said, and Freddie grinned at him, his hand flying up to hide his teeth. Before he could say anything else, Yasmine was tugging him away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She led him into a big studio. Two dancers were stretching at the barre, another was tying her hair back in a tight bun, while another stretched on the floor.

“Alright everyone, gather around!” Yasmine said, clapping her hands together. The dancers all immediately listened, rushing to stand in front of her. She nodded in approval, her hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“Freddie, sweetheart, this is Anna, Catherine, Dmitri and Terrence. You’ll be working with them.”

“Hello,” Freddie said. All four of them gaped at him. Dmitri looked rather pink, quickly looking away and looking back again. Anna curtsied with a little smirk. Anna and Catherine were both Betas; Dmitri and Terrence were both Alphas like Yasmine.

“Well then,” Yasmine said briskly. “Let’s get started.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was hard work, but Freddie saw that coming a mile away. It was exhausting, but exhilarating. And, for once, everyone was utterly professional. No one’s hands strayed, no one muttered lewd comments. Professional, but surprisingly friendly. It was a breath of fresh air. Sure, Terrence and Catherine were quite snobby, but Freddie supposed he wasn’t really one to judge. Besides, they weren’t being _ mean _about it necessarily. Just...snobby. Like they weren’t used to new people.

All the same, he had fun. His muscles ached, and he hopped into the shower with a grateful sigh, letting the hot water soothe his muscles and clear his mind.

He had to admit, he was happy to see Peter in the dressing room. He was with another Omega, an utterly _ beautiful _Omega with bright blonde curls and big blue eyes, dainty and delicate as a doll. He must have been the Oscar fellow that Peter had mentioned.

Blimey, but just _ looking _at him made Freddie feel terribly gawky.

He shook it off, holding his head head, and handed the white ballet shoes back to Peter.

“Want to grab a drink, darling?” he asked brightly. “Roger’s not collecting me any time soon.”

Peter looked perfectly stunned. Oscar looked a little put-out.

The others lingered in the doorway.

“We’re going out, Freddie,” Dmitri said. “You can come with us. Oscar, you in?”

“Of course,” Oscar said, winking at the Alpha.

“Oh. Well then…” Freddie folded his arms, pouting, and turned back to Peter. “Are you coming?” he asked. Call him crazy, but he liked the other Omega, and it seemed terribly rude to not at least _ ask. _

But Peter looked more shocked than ever. “Er…”

To Freddie’s confusion, the dancers were shaking their heads. Oscar went to Dmitri and linked arms with him.

“Peter never goes out,” Anna scoffed. Freddie’s eyes narrowed when he saw how annoyed Peter looked, how embarrassed.

A lot of things clicked into place.

“I’ll stay with Peter, thank you,” Freddie said, nose in the air. He nearly laughed at how annoyed they all looked. Fuck them. Clearly he’d been wrong in thinking them friendly. He turned to Peter and grinned. “You in, darling?”

Peter looked at him, he looked at the dancers and, slowly, he started to grin.

“Sure,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Wonderful!” Freddie chirped, linking arms with him. “Let’s go!”

He led Peter straight past the gaping group, and didn’t give them a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yasmine is ballet-mum, and she is a goddamn lady. Freddie's not here to take anyone's shit.


	55. My Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has been absolutely nuts because of the Coronavirus- they're still trying to set us up to work from home, with little success so far, and my anxiety is off the charts with everything 🙃🙃
> 
> Please stay safe, guys 💕

**October 7th, London, The Royal Ballet, 1979** **   
** ** _“'Cause I'm a Primadonna girl, yeah, all I ever wanted was the world. I can't help that I need it all. The primadonna life, the rise and fall. You say that I'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe. You can count on me to misbehave.” -Primadonna Girl, _ ** **Marina And The Diamonds**

Roger was pretty sure that Freddie was super-human. Parenting, recording an album, practicing ballet and then  _ doing a tour?  _ How he hadn’t dropped from exhaustion, Roger would never understand, but that was Freddie for you.

So of course, here Roger was, with Cas in his lap, about to watch Freddie perform.

“I want Papa,” Cas mumbled, flopping against Roger’s chest. He looked at Roger almost accusingly, like he was hiding Freddie from the toddler. “Dada, I really want Papa.”

“I know, buddy,” Roger said, pushing Cas’s hair back. “He’ll be on soon.” He grinned at him. “And we’ll show him your present.”

At that, Cas lit up and was, to do him credit, as good as gold through the whole show. He’d sometimes mumble “Papa’s better” but otherwise he sat still, sucking at his thumb, watching with clear interest.

Some of the dancers were utterly fantastic. Even Roger, who knew sweet fuck all about ballet, could see that. He watched, admittedly entranced, but eagerly waiting for his husband.

It felt like entire  _ days  _ passed before Freddie finally showed up.

He looked beautiful. Phoebe had out-done himself this time; Freddie wore a sparkling silver leotard with short, sheer flowing sleeves, a tiny circlet of diamonds and crystal flowers in his hair. For the most part, the dancers danced  _ around  _ him while he sang, but they’d occasionally lift him up, or spin him around.

Roger had met the dancers only a handful of times, when he picked Freddie up from rehearsal, and he’d thought they seemed like snobs. He kept waiting for some bullshit comments about how they were  _ real artists,  _ or some other tripe, but they had the good sense to keep their mouths shut, though they kept frowning.

Evidently, they never quite forgave Freddie for sticking up for Phoebe.

“Papa!” Caspian cried, squirming in his seat, reaching for Freddie. Freddie caught their son’s eye and winked, his grin widened. Cas looked utterly delighted.

Roger couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t look away either.

It was almost bizarre. He watched Freddie perform every night. He often joked that he had the best seat in the house...But it was different, actually being in the audience. It was breat-taking. Amazing. Beautiful. He completely understood how Freddie put everyone under his spell. He almost didn’t seem  _ human,  _ flitting about like a bird, voice clear and perfect as always.

A nicer article had once compared Freddie to a siren, an angel, a beautiful creature of myth.

Roger wholeheartedly agreed.

_ “Any way the wind blows…” _

The gong sounded, the audience clapped (even the stuffiest of them were cheering and clapping- a miracle!), and Freddie took him bow with the rest, hurrying off stage, running on the tips of his toes.

“Can we go get Papa now?” Cas asked.

“We can,” Roger said, smiling. He pushed his way down the row and, Cas still in his arms (he didn’t trust the kid to not run off and get lost), he went in search of Freddie.

  
  
  
  
  


** _“And I'll spend my life penning my song, my song. And the verses I write will speak for me; good girls don't make history. So I may never be what you assume (it's my song), don't want your hooks or auto-tune (it's my song). If I'm off-key then that's alright with me (it's my song). Oh, and maybe you will learn this when I'm gone, my song will carry on.” -My Song, _ ** **Alessia Cara**

Backstage was chaos. Even by Roger’s standards, it was chaos.

He actually felt like he needed to shield Cas.

Collecting the flowers from Phoebe was fine, no problem. The problem was when the three of them walked to Freddie’s dressing room. It was  _ packed  _ with dancers, guest artists, stage hands, assistants, members of the press, VIPs...He saw one dancer slap another over a pair of pointe shoes, which the press was only too happy to swarm towards. 

“God, I’m so glad I left,” Phoebe said, rolling his eyes. “You boys actually look sane by comparison.”

“I think I fear for my life,” Roger said honestly. Caspian gaped at everyone, his nails digging into Roger’s arm.

But they made it to Freddie’s door unscathed. It even had a star on it, with  _ Freddie Mercury  _ written in swirling black writing.

Grinning, Roger set Cas down, and Phoebe handed Caspian the huge bouquet of roses. The bouquet was nearly as big as Cas, and the child struggled for a moment until Roger put him to rights.

“Ready to surprise Papa, baby?” Roger asked. Cas nodded, grinning, and Phoebe knocked on the door.

“Freddie? You decent, sweetheart? You’ve an underage visitor!”

_ “Pardon?”  _ came Freddie’s confused voice, and then the door opened. Freddie stood there, wrapped in a fluffy yellow robe, the circlet of diamonds and crystal flowers still in his hair, slightly askew now. The second he saw Cas, however, everything about his demeanor softened.

“Oh, who have we here?” he teased, bending down. “A little admirer?”

“It’s  _ me, _ Papa!” Cas said, peering around the flowers, bouncing on his toes. “See?”

“Cas, darling!” Freddie pretended to be surprised, eyes shining. “And who are those flowers for, love?”

“You!” Cas held them out, smiling all the more when Freddie gently took them from him. Freddie balanced the flowers with one arm, and took Cas’s hand, leading him into the dressing room. Roger gratefully closed the door on the chaos in the hall.

Phoebe outright sighed in relief as the door shut.

“Are you all in one piece?” Freddie asked, setting the flowers on the vanity. It wasn’t the only gift in the room. There was an almost ridiculously large bouquet of pink lilies and blue orchids from Elton, some pretty white roses from Brian and Chrissie, tulips from Deacy and Veronica, and a big box of chocolates and a bottle of wine from Kashmira. There were too many good luck cards to count.

The dressing room was quite large, painted white. Cas sat on the red sofa, kicking his legs, watching avidly as Freddie and Phoebe got to work on unpinning the circlet from Freddie’s hair.

“Just about,” Roger said in response to Freddie. As soon as the circlet was freed, and Phoebe stepped back to safely store it away, Roger came up behind Freddie to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the top of his head.

“You were fantastic,” Roger said quietly, lightly swaying them back and forth. “I-, holy crap, Fred, you’re something else, you know that?”

“You’re sweet,” Freddie said, smiling at their reflections.

“I’m  _ right, _ ” Roger said, kissing him again. Snickering, Freddie twisted around in his arms to face him and quickly kissed him on the lips, nose and forehead.

“You’re sweet, Roggie,” he repeated softly, eyes shining.

“Yuck,” Cas said. He curled up in a ball, much like Freddie always did, knees tucked up to his chest. When Phoebe sat down, Cas put his head in his lap, happily letting his newest honourary-uncle stroke his hair.

“Excuse me?” Freddie pulled away, hands on his hips. “What was that, darling?”

“Nothing,” Cas said quickly.

“Oh no, that was definitely something,” Freddie said quickly. In three quick strides, he was at the sofa and tickling Cas under his arms and stomach. “Are you getting cheeky, Cas?”

_ “No-ooo!”  _ Cas squealed, kicking and shrieking, but he laughed even harder when Freddie scooped him up and spun him around.

“I’m surrounded by children,” Phoebe said, throwing his hands up in defeat. 

“Welcome to the mad house,” Roger said, flopping down next to him. “You’re stuck with us, Pheebs.”

“Fine by me,” Phoebe said, smiling shyly. Roger elbowed him, unable to keep the smile off his face for long.

If you’d told Roger once, that he’d be married and bonded to his best friend, that he’d be rich and famous, surrounded by friends and family, with a child of his own, he’d have laughed at the concept. Oh, he’d have been wistful for such a world, but he wouldn’t have believed it.

He believed it now. He could finally accept that it was okay to be happy, that he  _ deserved  _ to be happy.

They all did.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And then the 80s hit.

  
And then  _ I Want To Break Free  _ hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto the 80s now 😏


	56. I Want To Break Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys begin to film the "I Want To Break Free" music video, but it's not without it's complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama and mess incoming? Why yes, why do you ask?

**May 8th, Garden Lodge, London, 1984** **  
** ** _“But life still goes on. I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you by my side; I don't want to live alone. Hey, God knows, got to make it on my own. So, baby, can't you see? I've got to break free! I've got to break free. I want to break free, yeah. I want, I want, I want, I want to break free!” -I Want To Break Free, _ ** **Queen**

They were giggling like school children, and Freddie failed to hold back a groan as Roger nipped at his bond mark.

“Sshh!” Roger chided, but he was grinning, his hair sticking up at odd angles. “Do you want Cas or Pheebs to hear?”

Sure enough, there came a knocking on their bedroom door, and they both cursed.

“Papa? Dad? Are you awake?”

“Just a moment, Cas,” Roger called back. There was muffled footsteps as Cas left, some distant meowing from the cats, and they could hear Phoebe leave his room and head downstairs.

“Fuck,” Roger sighed.

Freddie, looking rather like a grump cat himself, wriggled out from beneath Roger and pulled his shirt back on.

“Come on, Roggie,” he said. “Or else Cas will be back, and you know he’ll walk straight in.”

Grumbling to himself, Roger got up and headed for the shower.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Queen _ had a meeting that day, regarding the latest album. They’d decided early on that _ I Want To Break Free _had to be one of their choices for a video. It was a hit in the making and they all knew it.

The real question was, what should the video be about?

They’d only had some vague ideas. A piss-take of a prison break? Running away from the altar? Some sort of love story?

Music videos drove Roger up the wall. They were always a nightmare to organise, a headache to create- and sue him, but he hated being bossed around. He hated the arguments over who had the better idea, he hated how long they always took.

But as he sat with his boys, reading over Deacy’s song, sudden inspiration hit. Why not have some fun and tweak some noses?

“We should dress in drag!” he cried with an ecstatic grin. Brian, Freddie, and Deacy all stared at him like he’d lost his mind. For a moment. They were quickly smiling and laughing.

“Fuck it,” Brian said, shrugging. “Why not?”

They were all snickering over the mental images, when Deacy suddenly got quiet. He looked at the floor as he quietly said, “We should all dress like Omegas.”

Silence reigned. Roger couldn’t seem to get enough air. Brian did a double-take, and Freddie tensed.

There had been an Omega March just last week in London itself, two in New York and New Orleans each, and another in Stone Town. They were, for the most part, peaceful. The usual demands for equal pay, better rights...Some damn protection and equality, for once.

That hadn’t stopped the police force in Stone Town from opening fire on the crowd. That hadn’t stopped a cop from dislocating an Omega woman’s arm in New Orleans, and that protest rapidly descended into a riot. Windows were smashed, and cars were set on fire, as the cops released tear gas and bullets into the then raging mob. And they’d fought back, arming themselves with whatever they could, throwing rocks and punches, even tackling the cops when they could.

People were dead. People were in jail. People were in hospital. All because they wanted equality. How was that fair? How was that allowed?

_ It shouldn't be allowed. _

Roger turned to Freddie. His husband, his Omega, was staring at his sheet of lyrics with dark eyes.

“Sneaky-Deacy,” he said softly. Deacy sat up straighter, and almost defiant look on his face. Ever since they met, as soon as they really got to know him, he threw himself into studying Omega Rights, and could quote some laws by heart. Roger loved him for it.

“I’m all for it,” Brian said gently.

“Me too,” Roger said, as stubborn as ever.

Deacy was still looking at Freddie, a little hesitant now. “If you don’t want to…I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, Fred-”

Freddie reached out and flicked Deacy on the forehead, smiling fondly, eyes shining.

“Let’s cause a scandal, my darlings.”

  
  
  
  
  


**March 22nd...**

** _“Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back! Porno paparazzi girls, I don't wanna be a stupid girl. Maybe if I act like that, flippin' my blond hair back, push up my bra like that- I don't wanna be a stupid girl!” -Stupid Girls, _ ** **P!NK**

Brian felt much more nervous when he saw the costumes. They’d each picked their own period in history, their own stance, their own issue to call out. He’d picked a popular comedy in England, one he’d never quite taken to. The Omega wife was portrayed as a shrill shrew, and her abusive husband was cheered on. Evidently, nasty and sloppy were attractive traits now.

Brian, despite not liking the show, watched it again and again, until he could copy the wife’s stance and way of walking perfectly: hands lightly glasped, eyes averted, head bowed. He had curlers in his hair, and wore pink lipstick and slightly smudged mascara. His costume consisted of a long silk pink nightgown, trimmed with white lace and a matching housecoat, and fluffy pink slippers.

It would be surprisingly comfortable, if not for the damn curlers pressing against his scalp. He wasn’t sure how women put up with these things. He was hyper-aware of them the whole time.

Deacy’s costume looked so uncomfortable that Brian took one look at him and winced. He wore a shapeless grey and beige dress and an oversized white bonnet that hid his hair and almost blocked his face from view. Totally devoted to his role, he was even wearing a corset.

“You look like hell, Deacs,” Brian told him bluntly.

“I feel like hell,” Deacy said. “I don’t know how women do it.”

“Maybe don’t pick such a harsh period next time,” came Roger’s voice in the doorway. Brian couldn’t help but gape. For such an obvious _ boy, _ Roger looked- well, he looked downright _ pretty. _

Roger had decided to call-out the education system. Specifically, it was a call-out that Omegas were only allowed into _ “real” _ secondary schools in the 1940s, just after the war. And even then, they hadn’t been treated fairly. 

His schoolgirl outfit was traditional from the time; the long black skirt fell to his mid-calf, the tights were thick and wooly. After studying some photos with the costume team, he’d even decided to wear white ankle socks on top of the tights, making it absolutely impossible for even the _ slightest _ glimpse of bare leg to be seen. His long blonde wig was held up tightly with two pink ribbons. In true Roger Taylor fashion, he insisted on keeping the blazer unbuttoned and the tie noticeably askew- something they all knew would have gotten any student’s hands a caning back in the day.

But maybe that was the point too. Another call-out.

Deacy wolf-whistled at Roger, elevating some of the underlying nerves and tension. Roger tossed his wig back, cocking his hip, grinning.

“Yes, yes, I know I’m gorgeous, but keep it in your pants, Deacy.”

“Where’s Fred?” Brian asked.

“Think he’s still in his dressing room,” Roger said.

“He always takes ages,” Brian muttered, leading the way to Freddie’s dressing room.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Alone in this fight with herself, and the fears whispering, if she stands she'll fall down. She wants to be found. The only way out is through everything she's running from...Wants to give up and lie down. So stand in the rain. Stand your ground. Stand up when it's all crashing down. Stand through the pain, you won't drown and one day what’s lost can be found.” -Stand In The Rain, _ ** **Superchick**

Things were suddenly a lot less funny when they opened the door.

Freddie was staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror with an awful, glassy-eyed look on his face. He looked too pale, and even from here, Brian could see his hands were shaking.

He’d gone for a traditional look. He’d shaved his moustache, and he wore a long braided black wig. He was swathed in red and gold (something he’d once told them would be forbidden for unmarried Omegas), wearing a shimmering floor-length veil, and a long billowing skirt that skimmed his ankles, revealing his bare feet. The shirt had a high neckline, and long sleeves that nearly covered his hands entirely. Almost every finger had a ring on it, and he wore large golden clip-on earrings. His make-up, unlike the rest of them, was bold and dramatic.

He looked lovely, and yet Brian hated it. He didn’t look like _ Freddie. _

And he could only imagine what Freddie was thinking.

“Looking good, Fred!” Roger laughed, but when Freddie didn’t even look at them, he frowned, stepping forward. “Fred, love?”

Freddie’s breathing hitched oddly, and they snapped into action.

“Freddie? Come on, sweetheart, deep breaths,” Roger said, leading Freddie to the small sofa. Deacy helped Freddie to sit, wrapping an arm around his waist. Brian sat on Freddie’s other side, an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. Roger knelt in front of them, holding onto Freddie’s hands.

“You’re alright, Fred,” Brian said, though he wondered if Freddie could even hear them. He had his eyes tightly shut and he kept gasping and shuddering.

“Freddie? Fred!” Roger’s voice was sharp with fear, but it made Freddie open his eyes. He looked a little confused, like he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there.

“You’re alright,” Roger said softly, squeezing Freddie’s hands tighter. “What’s got you so worked up, hm?”

“I...I hate how I look right now,” Freddie said hoarsely. He glanced at the mirror and shuddered in disgust. “I- I look like how _ they _wanted me to look, I…I hate it.”

Deacy looked stricken. “Shit, Freddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Don’t be daft, love,” Freddie said, sounding a bit more like his usual self. “_ I _ didn’t think I’d freak out.”

Brian took in how pale Freddie still looked, how his eyes were still a bit too dull for comfort, and he stood up.

“Be right back,” he said, and hurried from the dressing room. No way was he letting anyone drag Freddie onto the set in this state. He had to rest. He had to steady himself. If he knew Freddie and his anxiety attacks at all, he knew Freddie would need a short nap.

He found the director, David Mallet, and said “Freddie’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong?” David asked quickly.

“Migraine,” Brian lied. “He just needs to rest a bit.”

“Oh shit. Well…” David glanced at the set and sighed. “Okay, yeah. Take your time.”

“Cheers.” Brian hurried for the snacks, and grabbed a cereal bar and water bottle. After all, you could never be too prepared.

Indeed, Freddie utterly beamed at him. “You’re a darling,” he said.

It had been a while since they had a good cuddle pile and, to no one’s surprise, Freddie was soon out like a light.

“I didn’t think,” Deacy whispered, agonised. “I just-”

“Don’t be stupid, Deacs,” Roger said, pushing himself up on his elbow to frown at their resident Beta. “It’s not your fault. It’s not _ anyone’s _fault.” He scowled. “Well. No, fuck that. I blame the Bulsaras for this shit.”

Brian couldn’t help but agree. Why else would Freddie mention _ them? _ He was wearing something his family would be thrilled with, something _ Dazmen Yazadi _would have been thrilled with. No wonder he panicked. 

Fuck them. Freddie didn’t need them, and they didn’t deserve them. The _ Queen _boys would look after him, like they’d always done.

They’d take this hour to rest, and then they’d go out there and have a laugh together. They’d take a stand, and make their opinions known. Fuck them all. Fuck the system itself. It was the 80s, but it sometimes felt like they hadn’t moved forward at all. They’d always claimed to be a progressive band. Brian liked to think they’d made themselves plain.

  
But now was their chance to _ really _take a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes ✨DRAMA✨


	57. Too Little Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I Want To Break Free" gets banned; lines are crossed, and everything begins to fall apart before their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes ✨DRAMA✨

**May, 1984** **  
** ** _“What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems? (I'm not okay!) I told you time and time again, you sing the words but don't know what it means to be a joke and look, another line without a hook. I held you close as we both shook, for the last time, take a good hard look! I'm not okay! I'm not okay! I'm not okay, you wear me out.” -I’m Not Okay (I Promise), _ ** **My Chemical Romance**

They’d known the video was risky. They’d known to expect backlash.

But this was new. This time, Roger and Brian were attacked too. The press gleefully dragged their names through the mud. MTV banned their video in record time. The official statement was that it was “inappropriate for younger viewers.”

Brian knew he shouldn’t keep reading the articles, but he was drawn back to them again and again. It  _ hurt.  _ Sure, he’d been criticized before, but it was different this time. It was totally vicious. 

_ “That Queen thought dressing as Omegas would be acceptable is bad enough, but the fact that their two Alphas, Roger Taylor and Brian May condoned it is nearly unspeakable. Just another wave of these new weak Alphas, degrading themselves for publicity. What happened to the good old days? Us Alphas were on top of the world, we kept things running smoothly and now these so-called celebrities challenge that for fun. If Taylor and May have any sense they’ll reign Deacon and Mercury in before irreparable damage is done- though it may have been already.” _

His parents were furious with him. They wouldn’t even talk to him. 

_ Weak, degrading yourself, foolish, sissy, moronic, embarrassing… _

They perhaps weren’t the most imaginative of insults, but they stuck in Brian’s head on repeat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so humiliated.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They agreed to meet up and talk about it. The studio was free, so they headed there, not wanting to be at home, at Lightning, Reid’s office, or Miami’s office.

John arrived shortly after Brian did. He looked wary, which somehow only pissed Brian off more. And he knew that wasn’t fair. He knew he looked angry, of course John would be wary of that, of walking right into it.

But a tiny part of him was pissed at John all the same. He'd written the song. It was his idea to dress as Omegas.

So when Roger stormed in, cearly seething, with Freddie trailing behind him, looking rather pale, Brian snapped “Would it kill you to be on time?”

Roger snarled, but Freddie only sighed. “I wasn’t well, and the press were blocking the gate,” he said, shrugging his jacket off. “They were-”

“Let me guess,” Brian interrupted. “They were yelling about  _ I Want To Break Free? _ ”

“They were,” Roger said coldly. He went to his drums and sat, bristling like an angry cat. 

Freddie frowned at him, and at Brian, running a hand through his (admittedly ruffled) hair. John went to Freddie’s side, looking more concerned than ever. Biting his lip, he edged even closer to Freddie, a little behind him, the way he used to do in the early days whenever he was overwhelmed by the crowds and noise, and wanted Freddie’s protection.

Brian could so easily imagine what his father would say about that; about someone looking for protection from an  _ Omega, _ let alone one as small and thin as Freddie, as if he could look after anyone, he-

Wait. No. That wasn’t fair of him, what was  _ wrong _ with him? He was pissed at MTV, he was pissed at the press and the hate mail, not Freddie or Deacy...He wasn’t...

Yet a little part of his brain blamed them for this whole mess.

“Okay, out with it, darlings,” Freddie said. “You’re angry.”

“Of course we fucking are,” Roger snapped. “Come on, Fred, you’ve _ seen _ what people have been saying!”

“Of course I have,” Freddie said, raising an eyebrow. The blase attitude made Brian want to shake him.

Deacy, on the other hand, suddenly looked annoyed. He folded his arms, standing to his full height. “Oh, what, can’t handle the taunts? Welcome to our world, Roger! We have to put up with this all the time, the press have always given you two free passes! Get a grip, it’s not even  _ that _ bad!”

_ “Not that bad?” _ Brian growled. “Let’s see: they’ve said we’re degrading ourselves, we’re bad role models, we’re not real Alphas, we’re weak...Oh yeah, it’s just been a bundle of laughs!”

At that, Freddie rounded on him. “Oh yes, I can see how  _ that  _ would be hard,” he snapped, hands on his hips. “It’s not like I’ve been called a sex toy for years; it’s not like I only started receiving equal pay as the rest of you in 1979.” His voice rose as he spoke, he was trembling though whether it was with rage or upset, Brian wasn’t sure anymore. “It’s not like MTV is pinning this whole thing on  _ me!  _ Freddie The Freak, leading the good boys astray again. The stupid little Omega, the stupid little  _ slut, _ should just keep his fucking mouth shut and let the Alphas tell him what to do,  _ right!? _ ”

“That’s not what I said,” Brian snapped.

“You’re-” Roger stopped, glaring at the wall again. “You’re both  _ used  _ to this, okay? We’re  _ not,  _ we-”

“You’ve always gotten special treatment,” Deacy said, cold as ice. “Christ, does it not occur to either of you that this argument is utter  _ bullshit? _ ”

“You’re getting hate comments,” Freddie added, clearly struggling for calm. “We’re  _ all _ getting hate comments for once. You just have to grin and bear it. It’ll blow over, and-”

“Boo  _ fucking _ hoo,” Roger muttered, so quietly that Brian barely heard it. But Freddie did.

“What was that,  _ dear? _ ” Freddie raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Ice radiated from him.

Roger glared at Freddie, glared at Deacy and it suddenly occurred to Brian what they all looked like; he and Roger on the drum-rise, Freddie and Deacy by the row of guitars on the floor. Divided. 

It felt like a chasm was opening between them and he  _ knew _ he should calm down, he knew he should try and be rational, but he was hurt, he was angry and that primal part of him felt humiliated. He was an Alpha and he’d never felt like a good one. Usually he was proud of it. This time, having it thrown in his face by the whole world, just straight up  _ hurt. _

People were laughing at him and Roger, not with them and it was a shock. The press were making Chrissie nervous, and his parents refused to even pick up the phone when he called...

He snapped back to reality when he heard Roger snap, “Well maybe if John hadn’t  _ written _ the fucking song in the first place!”

“It was  _ your _ idea to dress in drag!” Deacy yelled, finally losing all his cool.

“And _ your  _ stupid idea to dress as Omegas!”

_ “Stupid?” _ Freddie stood to his full height, eyes narrowed and blazing with anger, openly snarling. “It was a  _ good _ idea!”

“Yeah,  _ you’d _ think that, wouldn’t you? When’s the last time you  _ actually _ had a good idea without help?” Brian snarled before he could stop himself.

He immediately wished he hadn’t said it. A wave of mortification washed over him. Deacy openly gaped at him. Even Roger looked surprised...But he didn't speak up.

Freddie looked to Roger, and his face crumpled when Roger didn’t look at him.

“...Well, let’s see,” Freddie said quietly, voice shaking. “Renaming the band was my idea. Our sigil was _my_ idea, it was _my design._ _Killer Queen_ was my idea. _Bohemian Rhapsody_ was mine too.”

“Freddie…” Deacy said cautiously, but Freddie ignored him. Maybe he didn’t even hear him.

“ _ Don’t Stop Me Now, Somebody To Love, Seven Seas Of Rhye, _ those were all  _ mine, _ ” Freddie said, and he looked and sounded seconds away from crying. “Those were all  _ my ideas  _ and  _ every single time _ executives and record producers, Reid,  _ everyone, _ tried to pressure me into letting  _ you two _ take the credit!” He took a step back, his eyes too bright. “But oh poor Roger and Brian, getting a taste of what the real world’s like for the rest of us. Everyone always said I was the band’s  _ toy, _ people insist Deacy can’t have good ideas either, they act like he’s some hanger-on! But yes,  _ poor you, _ people think you aren’t real Alphas- that’s a fucking  _ good thing _ as far as I’m concerned, you fucking  _ bastards! _ ”

It wasn’t like Freddie to yell at them like this. He was the type to shriek in excitement, and scream in happiness. Sometimes he snapped at them, he snarled at them, he sulked and could ignore them for hours...But yelling so loud? Yelling while near tears? Pointing out how the world saw him, so viciously, wielding it like a weapon? No. That wasn’t like him at all.

They’d done that.  _ Brian _ did that.

He didn’t know what to say. He knew he should apologise, but the words caught in his throat.

Roger took a deep breath, clearly struggling to reign himself in. “Look Fred, we just-”

“No, you don’t get to take this out on us,” Freddie said, turning to his husband. Deacy edged even closer to him, so their arms were brushing. “You’re angry, I get that, but it’s hardly our fault-”

“Well maybe if you’d  _ shut up _ and do as you’re told  _ for once, _ we could sort this out,” Roger snapped.

Deacy audibly gasped. Even Brian flinched back. Roger immediately looked horrified with himself, his hands over his mouth as if he could push the words back in.

Freddie had gone as pale as a sheet. The shadows under his eyes were suddenly painfully obvious. His lip trembled and he wiped at his eyes, his hands shaking. The silence dragged on and on, all of them apparently afraid to break it, or even move.

But eventually, Roger found his voice.

“Freddie,” Roger said hoarsely. “Fred, I-”

“Fuck off,” Freddie said through gritted teeth. His head was bowed, his fists clenched, but his voice wavered. He suddenly looked up again, glaring at Roger, and a tear escaped, which he furiously wiped away.  _ “Fuck you.” _

“Fred, please-” Roger stood up, but Freddie grabbed his jacket, looking at Roger like he was a stranger. He looked at Brian, and his face twisted with fury. 

“I’m sorry,  _ sirs,  _ I didn’t realise who I was talking to” Freddie said; his tone was haughty, but he was clearly seconds away from breaking down, and Brian felt like he couldn’t breathe. “With all due respect-  _ go fuck yourselves. _ ”

He slammed the door so hard behind him that Brian swore the room shook.

He felt sick. Roger looked near tears.

“...Well, I hope you’re proud of yourselves,” Deacy said quietly. He followed Freddie without another word, and didn’t look back once.

“Fuck,” Roger muttered.  _ “Fuck.”  _ He ran after them.

And Brian had the awful sensation of falling down a long, dark tunnel. It suddenly felt like everything was falling to pieces.

_And whose fault is that?_ a voice inside hissed. Brian felt very small indeed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“It's just too little, too late, a little too long and I can't wait. But you know all the right things to say. (You know it's just too little, too late.) You say you dream of my face, but you don't like me, you just like the chase. To be real, it doesn't matter anyway. (You know it's just too little, too late.)” -Too Little Too Late, _ ** **Jojo**

If there was one thing Freddie was grateful for, it was that Caspian was in school. That way, he wasn’t there when Roger inevitably burst into the house soon after Freddie and Deacy.

“Fred,” Roger said breathlessly. “Just- just let me explain-”

“Leave me alone,” Freddie demanded. Deacy lingered in the doorway, but he fled into the kitchen when Freddie waved him away. “I don’t know who the hell you think you can talk to like that, Roger, but it sure as hell isn’t me.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Roger said desperately.

“Didn’t you?” Freddie asked coldly. “Because it sure sounded like you did, Roger.”

Roger winced, and Freddie’s hand lingered by his bond mark. He wanted to scream in Roger’s face, he wanted to cry. Roger- he’d sounded like Freddie’s family. Scarily like them.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Such small, simple words. But they had the power to rip Freddie’s heart right out of his chest.

“Freddie please, you have to believe me, love.” Roger took his hand, but Freddie jerked back, his chest heaving, his eyes stinging. 

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he said quietly, coldly. “You can’t just- you can’t take it all out on me, and talk to me like that, and expect me to roll over and take it.”

“I don’t-”

“I’m staying at Deacy’s tonight,” Freddie said, brushing past him. “I want you to leave me alone.”

_ “What?”  _ Roger shook his head, tears in his eyes. “No, Freddie-  _ please,  _ let’s just talk about this-”

“I have nothing to say to you right now,” Freddie said coldly. “Unless you want me to repeat what I said in the studio. I’ve never taken that shit from anyone, and I won’t start now. I’m your  _ husband,  _ I’m an equal member of the band, and  _ nothing  _ in that video was my idea.”

“I know,” Roger said miserably.

“Then what the hell gives you the right to blame me?”

Roger didn’t have an answer for that, and Freddie grabbed his small overnight bag from the hall. 

“You can pass that onto Brian,” he told Roger. “Because the same goes for him too. I won’t take that bollocks from  _ anyone,  _ not even you, not even him.”

“Fred?” Deacy was behind him, looking agonised. Roger looked like his heart was breaking, and Freddie couldn’t look at him for long. He quite knew the feeling. That was how he’d looked all morning.

“And what the hell am I going to tell Cas?” Roger demanded, his voice breaking.

At that, Freddie froze. He had to close his eyes to steady himself. 

“Tell him I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

_ “Will you?” _

_ “Yes.”  _ Freddie glared at him, standing straighter when Roger flinched. “But it won’t be to see you. And  _ you  _ can explain it all to Phoebe as well.”

He left before Roger could try and stop him again, Deacy right at his side.

As soon as Deacy started to drive, Freddie burst into tears.

“It’ll be okay, Freddie,” Deacy said helplessly, patting him on the shoulder, hardly daring to take his eyes off the road.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Freddie mumbled. He wasn’t sure about  _ anything.  _ They’d fought before. They’d all fought before. He and Roger had fought before.

This felt so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned ya'll that Roger would say the same shit he said in canon 😅 Happy endings only though, I promise!


	58. You Will Be Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's always had dramatic timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More family drama.

** _“Yeah, I wish I'd been, I wish I'd been, a teen-teen idle. Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title, instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible. Feeling super, super, super suicidal. The wasted years, the wasted youth; the pretty lies, the ugly truth. And the day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive.” -Teen Idle, _ ** **Marina And The Diamonds**

Veronica was an absolute angel, as per usual. She ushered the kids out of the room, sternly telling Robert to please keep the others quiet.

“The adults need to talk,” she said, and Robert pulled his siblings upstairs.

“Right,” Veronica said, turning back to John and Freddie. “What’s happened? John, darling, you said there was a fight?”

“There was,” John said tiredly. He couldn’t quite get the image of Brian and Roger’s furious faces from his mind. The tense atmosphere, the ice cold silences. And then that utter explosion of a fight.

_ “Well maybe if you’d _ shut up _ and do as you’re told for _ once, _ we could sort this out!” _

He never would have expected that from _ Roger, _ let alone for him to talk to Freddie like that. He couldn’t help but be furious. Dressing as Omegas had been his idea, yes, but dressing in drag had been Roger’s- none of this was Freddie’s fault, none at all, yet MTV was pinning it on him, most of the press were saying this was Freddie’s fault (as usual), and now Brian and Roger were acting like such- such- such _ Alphas. _

They were usually given free passes by the press. Praised for everything they did, no matter how small. Seen as the leaders of _ Queen. _Not this time.

He could see why that would shake them, but it gave them absolutely no right to talk to him and Freddie like that. And how dare Roger throw that in Freddie’s face!

He explained the whole fight as best he could, but then he faltered, glancing at Freddie. His friend had been worryingly quiet this whole time.

“Roger said if I would shut up and do what I’m told for once, we could sort it out,” Freddie said flatly, staring into his cup of tea. And although his tone was steady, his eyes watered again.

Veronica looked perfectly horrified. “Oh, sweetie…” She reached out and took hold of Freddie’s hands, holding on tight. “That’s so unfair,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for bursting in on you,” Freddie said, still not looking at either of them, and a lump rose in John’s throat.

“Don’t be daft,” he said quietly. “I invited you, didn’t I?”

“Maybe this will knock some sense into them,” Veronica said with a hopeful little smile. “In the morning, maybe this will blow over.”

John wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t have the heart to say so. He took in Freddie’s dim eyes, how shaken he looked, and John hated it. Because Freddie shouldn’t look like that. Ever. And he hated how many times people had hurt Freddie so deeply.

Roger should _ never _ have been one of them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie stayed in their guest room, and it was an outright battle with Laura to make her stay in _ her _room and not go barrelling into him for a story or a song.

“Is everything okay, Dad?” Robert asked quietly.

“Just work stuff,” John said, forcing a smile. “Don’t you worry about you, Robbie.”

His son didn’t look convinced, but he went to bed with the rest. John climbed into bed next to Veronica and held his wife close.

“It’ll be okay, John,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “You’ve all fought before.”

“Not like this,” John said, biting his lip uncertainly. “You didn’t see it, Ronnie, it was- bad. They’ve never spoken to us like that before.”

“You’ll sort it out,” Veronica said; she sounded so sure of it. John wished he was half as confident in the situation. “I know you will. You always do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand any blaze you blew my way. 'Cause something inside, it solidified, and I knew I'd always stay. You can build me up, you can tear me down; you can try but I'm unbreakable. You can do your best, but I'll stand the test. You'll find that I'm unshakeable.” -Heart of Stone, _ ** **Six: The Musical**

Roger spent the remainder of the afternoon in pieces. He called Brian, choking on his own sobs, and Brian came running.

“I fucked up,” Roger sobbed on his shoulder. “I fucked up, Brimi, he hates me, I fucked up.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Brian said, holding him so tightly it hurt. “And- and I started the fight, Rog, I’m sorry.”

But Roger barely heard him over his own sobs. All he could see was the look on Freddie’s face, like Roger had hit him. Like he’d have prefered for Roger to hit him. He’d looked so shaken, so small. 

_ “I’m sorry, _ sirs, _ I didn’t realise who I was talking to. With all due respect- _ go fuck yourselves. _ ” _

_ “You can’t talk to me like that. You can’t just- you can’t take it all out on me, and talk to me like that, and expect me to roll over and take it.” _

_ “I’ve never taken that shit from anyone, and I won’t start now. I’m your _ husband, _ I’m an equal member of the band, and _ nothing _ in that video was my idea.” _

He was right. Roger knew he was right. None of it had been Freddie’s idea.

And now he’d fucked up so entirely that Freddie left.

Thankfully he stopped crying by the time Phoebe brought Caspian home from school.

“Hey, buddy,” Roger said, holding his son tight. “How was school?”

“Good,” Cas said, grinning. “We had a maths test, and I got ten out of ten!”

“That’s my brain box,” Roger said fondly, ruffling Cas’s hair. 

“Where’s Papa?”

Roger had to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself, before he made himself smile at his son. “He’s out, buddy. He’s staying with Uncle Deacy tonight, they have a lot of work to do.”

“Oh…” Cas frowned, disappointed.

“But I’ll help you with your homework like always, okay? And we can order your favourite pizza- but for now, you can watch the telly for a bit. Uncle Brian and I need to talk to Phoebe.”

At that, Cas lit up, perfectly content. He raced away to put his school things away.

At once, Phoebe rounded on them, arms folded. “What’s Freddie _ really _doing at Deacy’s?” he asked, already looking unimpressed.

Brian was kind enough to take over the explanations. 

Phoebe looked ready to _ murder _them. It was startling. He usually looked so jovial and gentle.

“Well,” he said coldly. “You both fucked up.” That was another thing; Phoebe wasn’t one to swear much either.

“We did,” Roger said miserably.

“You’re lucky he didn’t punch you,” Phoebe said.

“We know,” Brian said.

“You’re lucky _ I _don’t punch you. What the hell were you thinking!?”

“We weren’t,” Roger said, burying his face in his hands. “I- I was angry, and hurt, and I felt humiliated. So I-”

“Took it out on Freddie and John. Specifically, you took it out on Freddie.”

Roger nodded. Phoebe sighed and, to Roger’s surprise, set about making cups of tea for them all.

“Right then,” Phoebe said briskly. “We’d better start working on your apology, because a simple _ I’m sorry _isn’t going to cut it this time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Of course, Brian had to go home, and Roger was sure Chrissie wouldn’t be happy either when she heard about this.

It felt wrong putting Cas to bed without Freddie’s help. Of course, Cas asked after Freddie again, asking if he’d be home in the morning. Roger said he would be, clinging to Freddie’s own words, but he was terrified that he wouldn’t be.

He wondered how Freddie was. He wondered if Freddie was struggling to sleep too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you, and when you're broken on the ground, you will be found. So let the sun come streaming in, ‘cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again. Lift your head and look around. You will be found.” -You Will Be Found, _ ** **Dear Evan Hansen**

Veronica was just finishing breakfast when she heard a muffled thump. Not unusual with so many children running around. She braced herself for the wails of _ “Mu-uuummmm!” _but there was nothing.

And then she heard Laura scream Freddie’s name.

It startled her so badly that she dropped the plate she was carrying. She jumped over the shards, heart pounding, and raced upstairs.

She nearly knocked into the kids on the landing, and briskly ordered Robert to hold the others back. Laura was wailing in the doorway, and John was crouched over Freddie, who was lying on the bedroom floor.

“Oh God,” she gasped. “Robbie, grab the phone!”

“Yes, Mum.” Her son ran off, down the stairs, and Veronica gave up all attempts to bustle the others away. She knelt with John and nearly sobbed in relief when Freddie’s eyes immediately fluttered open.

“What happened?” Freddie asked, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“I think you fainted, Fred,” John said. He was pale as a sheet, and immediately pushed Freddie back down when he tried to sit up.

“No, don’t move,” he said gently. He shook his head at their lingering children. “Oh, kids, don’t-”

“Here’s your phone, Mum,” Robert said, running back in, with the clunky phone clutched in his hand. Veronica took it with a grateful sigh, and Robert had to forcibly drag his siblings away.

“Well, this is horribly embarrassing,” Freddie mumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” John said as Veronica called for an ambulance.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The last thing Roger expected was to receive a phone call from a rather hysterical Veronica.

“Freddie’s in hospital,” she said. “He fainted- he didn’t hit his head too badly, but we don’t know what happened. Laura said he just _ fell. _”

After that, it was a blur. He dimly remembered shouting for Cas and Phoebe. He remembered running out of the house and jumping into the car. He remembered gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Veronica must have called Brian as well, because he was already there, pacing in reception when they arrived.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Brian gasped, rushing over to hug him. John was there too, sitting on one of those ugly orange plastic chairs and biting his thumbnail, pale as death.

“What happened?” Roger demanded. “Deacy, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Deacy said, shaking his head helplessly. “He didn’t have a temperature, he ate dinner okay, he didn’t complain about feeling ill…Laura went in to wake him up and she said he just...Just _ collapsed. _He stood up and fainted in the middle of a sentence.”

He hadn’t complained about feeling ill...But he _ had _been ill the last few days; he’d thrown up yesterday morning.

_ Something’s wrong, _ Roger thought. _ Something’s wrong with him. _His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenarios: cancer, some awful untreatable illness, something that would require months and months of surgeries…

“I’m sorry, Deacs,” Roger mumbled, tears stinging his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forget about it,” Deacy said. “I just- let’s worry about Fred first.”

“I want Papa,” Cas said, clinging to Phoebe’s hand. “Daddy, where’s Papa?”

“He’s not well, baby,” Roger said, somehow summoning a smile. He scooped Cas up, ignoring how tall he was getting, how carrying him was getting more difficult all the time. Eight years old now. When did that happen?

Cas clung to him so tightly that his nails dug into Roger’s skin. It hurt, but Roger didn’t say a word. If anything, it helped to ground him.

“Family of Freddie Taylor?” a nurse called, and Roger rushed over, still carrying Cas, with Brian, Phoebe and John right behind him.

“That’s me,” Roger said, forcing himself to stay steady, to sound firm. “I’m his husband.”

“Then you can come with me, sir.” She eyed everyone else warily. “Just you for now.”

“Our son needs to see him,” Roger said sternly. 

“Sir-” She broke off at his furious glare, and sighed. “Sir, I’m sorry, but one at a time for now. You can bring your son with you later, when your Omega has had time to rest properly.”

“I want Papa,” Cas said, tears in his eyes as Brian took him from Roger.

“I know,” Roger said, kissing his forehead. “And I’ll bring you right to him, I promise, but I just need to see if he’s feeling better first, Cas.”

Cas clearly wasn’t happy about it. He let out a sob of sheer frustration, and Roger felt like the worst father in the world as he followed the nurse.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie was wide awake, though he looked a tad too pale. He was flicking through a magazine, and he looked up when Roger came in.

“Freddie,” Roger said. “I- Fred, I just…” He couldn’t seem to say much more than Freddie’s name.

But as he approached the bed it all burst out. His chest heaved as he tried not to sob, and he pulled Freddie into his arms, clinging to him like a drowning man.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Oh God, Freddie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean _ any _ of it, I’d _ never- _ fuck, I was such an _ asshole, _I’m sorry.”

He sobbed in sheer relief when Freddie wrapped his arms around him.

“Is Cas here?” he asked quietly.

“He is,” Roger said. “He wants to see you. That poxy nurse said one at a time.”

“They’re quite annoying,” Freddie said. He pulled back and looked Roger in the eye. “It’s not okay. How you spoke to me. You can’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” Roger promised. “Not ever. I swear, Freddie, I won’t _ ever _say that again.”

“...I believe you,” Freddie said, more quiet than ever. Roger pressed their foreheads together, his thumb lightly pressing down on Freddie’s bond mark.

That was when the doctor, a tall Alpha with grey hair and slightly crooked glasses came in.

“Glad to see you looking more aware, Mr Taylor,” he said, addressing Freddie. “Now that your Alpha’s here we can go over the test results.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Freddie asked, clinging to Roger’s hand. Roger found himself holding his breath, willing the doctor to give them good news. It was just a dizzy spell, just a fluke, nothing was seriously wrong..

“I wouldn’t say so,” the doctor said. He held up a thin file with a smile, and turned to Roger. “Congratulations, sir. It seems your husband is expecting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch 😉 We're now technically entering the final arc of this story! (Did I manage to surprise anyone with that reveal? 😂)


	59. Love Of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to bridge the gap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter! 🌸 Here, we see the big dumb Alphas try to communicate like adults, lest Miami kills them.

** _“I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now. Channeling angels in a new age now. Hot summer days, rock and roll, the way you play for me at your show. And all the ways, I got to know your pretty face and electric soul. Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I've got nothing but my aching soul?” -Young And Beautiful, _ ** **Lana Del Rey**

“Papa, Papa!” Cas jumped up onto the bed and straight into Freddie’s arms, clinging to him. His green-blue eyes were bright with anxiety, his brown hair flopping across his forehead. “Are you better now?” he asked, very solemnly indeed.

“I am, darling,” Freddie said, stroking Cas’s hair back. He wasn’t sure how truthful that was. He didn’t feel ill anymore, but his mind was spinning. He held onto his son and tried to breathe steadily. 

He was pregnant. He was pregnant again and this- this hadn’t been planned at all. Christ, he was still so  _ angry,  _ and now he was pregnant.

Fucking hell. Was this the universe’s way of telling him to forgive Roger right away and let it go? No. Fuck that. It wasn’t magically  _ better.  _ If they were going to do this, they were going to do it properly.

He looked at Roger over the top of Caspian’s head. His husband was still ashen-faced, looking at Freddie like he expected him to vanish at any moment, like he expected Freddie to drop dead in front of him. Freddie wasn’t really sure what he felt at this point. He was still angry, still hurt...But for now, the shock of it all had taken over, and he wasn’t even sure he could hold a proper conversation right now. He needed time to get his head on straight, to work through everything he was feeling.

Though he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get that time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian, Phoebe and Deacy leaped up at the sight of them, and Deacy ran to them, pulling Freddie into a hug. Phoebe was babbling questions, even pressing his hand to Freddie’s forehead to check his temperature. Brian hovered awkwardly, biting his lip. Roger couldn’t blame him. God knew he felt terribly awkward himself. 

“Are you okay?” Deacy asked, holding onto Freddie’s shoulders. 

“I’m fine, darling,” Freddie said. His smile wavered and fell, and he glanced around the waiting room warily. Sure enough, at least ten people were staring while trying to look like they weren’t staring at all.

“Let’s- let’s get out of here and talk,” Roger said. He counted it as a small victory when he reached for Freddie’s hand, and his husband didn’t flinch away.

Brian wavered, looking more agonised by the second. “I-”

“We’ll talk it over at Garden Lodge,” Roger said more firmly. “Let’s go.”

He held onto Freddie’s right hand and Cas held onto his left. Deacy, Phoebe and Brian trailed behind them and, together, they headed home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Garden Lodge...**

** _“You will remember when this is blown over, and everything's all by the way; when I grow older I will be there at your side, to remind you how I still love you. I still love you.” -Love Of My Life, _ ** **Queen**

Cas didn’t want to leave Freddie’s side. Even when he was told that “the grown-ups need to talk,” he put his foot down and stayed by Freddie. Eventually, Phoebe distracted him by offering to call Miami and ask him to bring his best puzzles.

Cas instantly looked interested, though he threw Freddie a wary glance. “You’re sure you’re okay, Papa?” he asked.

“I’m okay, baby,” Freddie said. “We just need to talk about work.”

Cas frowned but evidently the lure of puzzles and the opportunity to ask Miami a million questions was too strong to resist. He let Phoebe lead him from the room, though he kept glancing back.

Miami arrived within fifteen minutes and gave Roger and Brian his best  _ ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’  _ face. Freddie had to admit, a part of him was thrilled to see Roger and Brian duck their heads like chastened school children.

“You’d better sort this out,” Miami said sternly. “And don’t ever let me hear about you talking to each other like this again.” So said, he spun on his heel and went to join Cas and Phoebe in Cas’s playroom, three puzzles tucked under his arm.

“I forget how much of a dad he can be,” Roger said with a weak smile. His eyes flickered to Freddie, from his face down to his stomach.

“You’re sure you’re okay, Freddie?” Brian asked. He bit at his thumbnail, looking dangerously close to tears. “I- is it...bad?”

“Hm…” Freddie looked at them all, at their pale worried faces and sighed. “I wouldn’t call it bad, Brian, just...perhaps not the best timing.”

“Oh?” Deacy’s frown deepened and then his eyes widened. “Oh!”

“I’m pregnant,” Freddie said; honestly he was just relieved his voice stayed steady.

Brian’s mouth dropped open, his eyes looked ready to pop out of his head, glued to Freddie’s stomach.

“Well- holy shit, that’s- Fred, congratulations.” His face softened in a smile and, despite himself, Freddie offered a smile in return. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie said honestly.

“You- do you-” Roger gulped before continuing; “Do you want to keep it?”

“Yes,” Freddie said firmly. “But that can wait until later. We’re here to talk about  _ I Want To Break Free,  _ remember?”

The two Alphas winced, but they nodded.

“You can’t talk to us like that,” Deacy said. He glared at Roger and turned to glare at Brian, close to snarling outright. “You had absolutely  _ no right  _ to take it out on us. You were hurt, you were embarrassed- I get that. But instead of  _ talking  _ to us, you belittled us. You insulted us. I was too anxious to sleep last night, and you made Freddie cry. That’s now okay.”

“We know,” Brian said quietly.

“We’re sorry,” Roger said, a desperate edge to his voice. “We’re  _ so  _ sorry. We fucked up, we know we did.”

“We should have talked properly,” Brian said, tugging at his hair, frowning at the floor. Goliath, perched on the windowsill, mewed. Oscar watched the proceedings with his usual look of general disapproval, and it made Freddie smile.

“We weren’t being fair,” Brian continued. “And I’m so sorry for what I said. Deacs, you were right, it was a good idea. Fuck MTV. Fuck the whole press! I don’t- I don’t want to let them get between us again. And Fred-” He swallowed, only minutely relaxing when Freddie looked at him. “I’m so sorry. You’re brilliant, and I shouldn’t have said all of that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Freddie said. Brian winced, and Freddie shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not  _ okay,  _ Brimi.” The nickname slipped out almost by accident, but it made Brian smile. “I’m still hurt. But...Thank you.”

“I’m glad you wrote the song, John,” Roger said, leaning forward to look past Freddie to Deacy. “It’s a great one, and I think Miami’s onto something when he says this could really be a power anthem. And it  _ was  _ my idea to dress in drag, I should have taken responsibility.”

“You should have, yes,” Deacy agreed. His expression stayed cold, but Freddie noticed that his eyes had softened. He rather got the impression that their resident Beta was enjoying watching the Alphas squirm. “You’re not off the hook yet, but it’s a start.”

Roger nodded and his breathing wavered when he turned to Freddie.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Freddie, sweetheart, I- God, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean  _ any  _ of it. I’d never…” His voice cracked. “I’d  _ never  _ try to order you around, Fred, I  _ promise  _ I wouldn’t. I never should have that, I- I was angry, and embarrassed, but I took it out on you and that’s not fair. You were right, nothing in the video was even your idea, I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I shouldn’t have said  _ that. _ ”

It was still there, in the back of Freddie’s mind:  _ “Well maybe if you’d  _ shut up _ and do as you’re told  _ for once, _ we could sort this out,”  _ And coming from  _ Roger  _ of all people…

But he was sincerely sorry, that was plain to see. He looked absolutely tortured, like he really might die if Freddie didn’t hear him out.

Slowly, Freddie’s hand went to his stomach. God, way to make things complicated.

“If you ever talk to me like that again,” Freddie said slowly. “Ever try to order me around, or snap at me like that again, and you’ll find out how good a boxer I really am.” He drew himself up to his full height, eyes narrowed. “That goes for  _ both  _ of you.”

“Noted,” Roger said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s fair,” Brian said weakly.

Freddie leaned back with a sigh, admittedly feeling some of the tension leave him. “Well like Deacy said, it’s a start.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“I’ve got stitches and scars, I’ve got yards of yarn; got miles of string running under my skin, I’ve got so much to give, so I’ll give it again, and again, and again. I’ll take this red ribbon, stitch my heart together, and I know I’ll be fine. Remember all of the pain, was it all too much? Remember falling apart everytime we touch. Remember going insane, but I’ll never give up. A heart that’s been broken is a heart that’s been loved.” -Red Ribbon, _ ** **Madilyn Bailey**

When Miami left he gave them all a questioning glance. At Freddie’s reassuring smile, Miami relaxed and, one by one, pulled them all into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, clapping Brian on the back. “For goodness’ sake, next time you have a problem  _ talk  _ about it.” He glanced at Freddie and his face creased in concern. “Phoebe mentioned you were in the hospital, Freddie?”

“Ah, yes. About that, I’m sure the press will have heard about that by tomorrow,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. He looked at Miami and smiled. “I’m pregnant, darling.”

“Oh!” Miami instantly softened and hugged him again, beaming all the while. “Congratulations, you two.” He pulled back and added, “I’ll handle the press in the meantime, don’t worry.”

“Cheers, Miami,” Roger said. Miami gave them all a brisk nod and left. Deacy and Brian left only moments later, and that left Roger and Freddie alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Roger asked.

“I think I’m still in shock,” Freddie told him. “I- I didn’t expect…”

“Me neither.” Cautiously, Roger took his hand. “But I’m happy.”

Freddie nodded, squeezing Roger’s hand. “So am I,” he said. “Just- reeling. We weren’t even  _ trying. _ ”

“We weren’t the first time,” Roger reminded him with a small smile. Despite himself, Freddie grinned.

“No, we weren’t,” he said. “And that was a drama and a half.”

“Are we gonna tell Cas now?”

“Oh goodness, I hope he takes it well,” Freddie said, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sure he will,” Roger said. There was a flicker of uncertainty on his face, but he smiled. “Let’s go?”

Freddie nodded, suddenly feeling nervous all over again. Cas was clever and such a well-behaved little lad, but he was also an only child and well used to being the centre of Freddie and Roger’s attention. The one and only baby of the house. What if he got jealous?

Well, fretting wouldn’t make anything better. 

It would take time for everything to feel normal again; it would take time for that fight to stop hurting. But for now there was something  _ good  _ to think about.

“Cas?” Freddie called and he led the way upstairs. “Cas, darling, can you come here? Your dad and I have some big news.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the talk with Cas and pregnancy content.


	60. What Do I Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys tell Caspian about the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60 chapters, holy shit!? Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with me this far 💕💕

** _“Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down, maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town; threw out our cloaks and our daggers, because it's morning now. It's brighter now. Now I don't wanna look at anything else, now that I saw you. (I can never look away). I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. (Things will never be the same).” -Daylight, _ ** **Taylor Swift**

Cas was smiling at them expectedly, and Freddie felt terribly cliche when he said, “You’re going to have a brother or sister soon.”

Cas’s mouth dropped open, and he looked between Freddie and Roger for confirmation. “Oh…” He squinted. “Where’s the baby now?”

“In your papa’s tummy,” Roger told him. Cas frowned, unconvinced.

“Tummies with babies in them are big,” he said, shaking his head. “Like Aunt Ronnie.”

Roger snickered, but Cas looked at them both so solemnly, like he thought they were being so silly. 

“Well, Aunt Ronnie’s stomach wasn’t big at first,” Freddie reminded him. “It got bigger when the baby grew.”

“I guess…” Cas still didn’t look convinced, like he thought they were pulling his leg. He folded his arms, and his frown deepened. “How’d the baby  _ get  _ there?”

Freddie supposed he should have seen that coming, but he still hesitated. Roger opened his mouth, but quickly closed it.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“But Daddy-”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Roger repeated firmly.

“How old?”

“Just- older.”

Cas scowled, clearly prepared to argue, so Freddie cut in. “Would you like a brother or sister, darling?”

“I guess so…” Cas trailed off, uncertain. “Will the baby cry lots?”

“They will at first,” Freddie said. “But they’ll stop when they get a bit bigger.”

Cas glanced at his toys, then turned back to his parents. “Do I have to share my toys?”

“Well, it would be nice if you shared some of them, darling,” Freddie told him. “But you don’t have to share them all.”

Cas nodded, though he still looked a little grumpy. “Girls are gross,” he proclaimed loudly and stubbornly. “I’d like a brother, please.” He nodded to emphasise his point.

Roger started laughing, and Freddie had to grin. “I’ll do my best, Cas.”

“Thank you, Papa. Will  _ you _ tell me how the baby got there?”

“Nice try, darling, but no.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


For the rest of the day, Cas kept touching Freddie’s stomach or pressing his ear against it.

“Are you  _ sure _ it’s not moving yet?” he asked with growing impatience.

“They’re too little to move yet,” Freddie said each time.

“They need to hurry up.”

At least Cas seemed genuinely interested. Perhaps not excited, but  _ curious.  _ He was soon asking what the baby would like to eat, what games they’d like, if they’d look like him, would they be an Omega, Alpha or Beta?

“We don’t even know what  _ you _ are yet,” Roger reminded him with a laugh.

“I think they’ll be an Omega,” Cas said, ignoring him. Roger caught Freddie’s eye and grinned, a little shyly. Freddie smiled, and Roger looked terribly relieved.

No, everything wasn’t perfect yet. But they could work on it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“We could change this whole world with a piano, add a bass, some guitar, grab a beat and away we go. I'm just a boy with a one-man show, no university, no degree; but Lord knows everybody's talking 'bout exponential growth, and the stock market crashing in their portfolios; while I'll be sitting here with a song that I wrote. Sing, love could change the world in a moment. But what do I know?” -What Do I Know?, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

Roger watched Freddie carefully the next day, terrified he’d faint again. Phoebe hovered more than usual, watching Freddie with worried eyes. Cas alone seemed to have bounced back from the initial fright of the hospital visit. Even Freddie, usually so stubborn, took it easy.

He didn’t faint, but he was sick after lunch, and Cas turned to Roger with a frightened look on his face.

“I don’t think I like the baby anymore,” he said quietly, shame-faced. “It’s making Papa sick.”

“It’s okay, buddy, I promise that’s normal,” Roger told him. “People feel sick when they’re growing babies. It’s hard work.” 

All the same, he worried. He remembered how ill Freddie had been when he was expecting Heydar. He hadn’t been too ill when he was expecting Caspian; very sleepy, but otherwise not so bad. It had been the birth itself that brought complications.

One more thing to scare Roger witless.

So he found himself kneeling on the bathroom floor, rubbing his husband’s back. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “You’re alright.”

Freddie gagged again, but he seemed to be done. He shuddered, pale and clammy, and leaned back against Roger.

“I think I need to lie down,” he admitted, a miracle from him.

“I think so too,” Roger agreed. He helped Freddie to his feet and guided him back to their bed. Freddie sighed in relief as he lay down, pulling the covers right up to his nose.

“Are you okay?” Roger asked. “I could ask Pheebs to make some soup? You need to eat something.”

“Not yet,” Freddie said, closing his eyes. “I just want to rest, darling.”

Roger hesitated, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Cautious in a way he hadn’t been in years, he took Freddie’s hand.

“Can I stay with you?” he asked. “Just until you fall asleep?”

Freddie cracked an eye open, looking at him, worryingly unreadable. Roger half-expected a rejection, even if he hoped otherwise. Lines had been crossed and feelings were still hurt. They weren’t magically okay again. The baby didn’t fix everything, though it would have been a fast, simple solution.

So he was undeniably relieved when Freddie nodded. Smiling, Roger moved to sit on Freddie’s other side. Still cautious, he ran his hand through Freddie’s hair. When his husband didn’t protest, he kept it up. He grinned when Freddie relaxed, pressing up into his hand.

The double-sliding doors opened a crack, and Cas peered in.

“Come here, buddy,” Roger said, holding his free hand out. Cas scurried over, his footsteps muffled by his socks. He held one of his favourite books to his chest; he pushed himself up onto the bed and leaned against Roger’s side. Silently, he began to read, occasionally pausing to glance at Freddie.

“He’s okay,” Roger promised him quietly.

“I’m okay,” Freddie chimed in with a yawn. “Just tired, darling.”

“Promise?” Cas asked.

“I promise, baby.” Freddie glanced over his shoulder to smile at him sleepily. Cas smiled back, and Freddie closed his eyes again. As soon as he did, Cas looked to Roger for silent confirmation, only relaxing when Roger nodded.

Soon enough, Freddie was fast asleep.

“Does Papa need the hospital again?” Cas whispered.

“No, Cas,” Roger told him. “We’ll only be going when the doctors need to check on the baby.”

“They can see the baby?” Cas asked, eyes wide.

“They can,” Roger answered, smiling. He was still stroking Freddie’s hair, and he wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulders tugging his son against his side. “On special machines.”

“Then why can’t I see the baby?” Cas asked, looking rather put-out.

“They’ll take a photo,” Roger promised him. “And you can see it then.” The simplest explanation. 

At least it seemed to satisfy Cas. He went back to reading, his head resting on Roger’s shoulder. It couldn’t have been a comfortable angle, but he clearly had no intention of moving.

Soon enough, Phoebe poked his head into the room, smiling at the sight of them curled up together.

“Shall I fix something for Fred?” he asked, careful to keep his voice down.

“Something light,” Roger said. “Soup or something?”

“Soup,” Phoebe decided. “And maybe some tea and honey.” He nodded, mostly to himself, and quietly slid the door shut.

The room was quiet again, bar the occasional rustle when Cas turned a page, and Roger was soon lost in thought. When to tell the rest of their friends, and their families? Surely the press had heard that Freddie was in hospital by now? What wild rumours had they come up with?

And the pregnancy itself...God, Roger hoped it would be smooth, that the birth would be easier. But that was months away, no sense in frightening himself now.

He’d smooth things over with Freddie, and with Deacy. He’d look after his Omega and make sure he and the baby were safe no matter what. He’d keep Cas safe and happy. He’d do this  _ right. _

Dozens of ideas and plans were already bouncing around in his head, but for now Roger let himself relax; he let his mind wander, soothed by the presence of his little family- a little family that was about to get one-person bigger.

He wondered which room they’d make into a nursery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas would like all his questions answered right now, please and thanks.


	61. White Queen (As It Began)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Roger begin their doctor appointments. Freddie's symptoms hit hard and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some pregnancy content; it's not all happy.

**June 1st, London, 1984** **   
** ** _“We've got to hold on to what we've got, it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not; we've got each other, and that's a lot for love. We'll give it a shot! Woah, we're halfway there, woah, livin' on a prayer. Take my hand, we'll make it I swear! Woah, livin' on a prayer.” -Livin’ On A Prayer, _ ** **Bon Jovi**

It felt so strange going through all this again. The same procedure as always, the same questions about symptoms, how Freddie was feeling, confirming this wasn’t their first pregnancy…

And the same image on the screen. Blurry, black and white, a little smidge that Freddie couldn’t quite believe was a person.

“And how are you feeling?” the doctor asked. She was a tall thin woman, a little taller than Roger even in her flats with greying hair tied back in a tight ponytail; a Beta named Clara Newman.

“Dreadful,” Freddie admitted. He’d thrown up three times that morning and had felt so dizzy when he woke up that he struggled to even sit. 

“You mentioned fainting?” Clara looked between them both, and Roger nodded.

“He did,” Roger confirmed. “That’s how we found out.”

“Hm…” Clara frowned, tapping her finger against the table. “I could write a prescription for-”

_ “No,”  _ Freddie cut in. His hands flew to his stomach and a stab of sheer terror hit him. “Absolutely not.”

Clara gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “Freddie, darling-”

_ “No.” _

She sighed and glanced at Roger. When Roger only frowned at her, she nodded in defeat. “Tell me if it persists,” she ordered, though not unkindly. “I mean it, boys. I understand the concern, but we need to take this seriously.”

_ I  _ am _ treating it seriously,  _ Freddie thought furiously. He wasn’t going through that again, absolutely  _ not.  _ He’d learned his lesson and he absolutely wasn’t about to blindly trust any prescriptions given to him. It wasn’t as if they could  _ make  _ him take them, could they? 

Clara seemed nice. But Atwood had been nice too.

When Clara smiled at him, Freddie found himself eyeing her suspiciously and scowling at her files. How could he really be sure they weren’t jumping the gun again and thinking of giving him medication he shouldn’t be taking?

  
  
  
  
  
  


“That went okay,” Roger said as they headed back to the car. His smile still had a shy edge to it when he looked at Freddie. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ll be damned before I take any medication they give me again,” Freddie said with a frown.

Roger twitched, but if anyone understood of course it would be him. All the same, he looked wary.

“What if we-?”

“ _ No, _ Roger.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Roger said, grinning.

“I don’t need to. I’m not taking anything.”

Roger sighed, his hands thrust into his pockets, but he had the good sense not to push it. “Okay, okay. How many calls do you reckon Miami’s had from the press today?”

“Oh at least twenty, I’m sure.”

Their official statement was that Freddie had been in hospital due to exhaustion- he hadn’t been sleeping, had a dizzy spell, and fell. Of course, the tabloids jumped in. They insinuated that Roger had hit him, that maybe even Brian had hit him. Some insisted Freddie was actually dangerously ill. No, no, a crazed stalker had attacked him. No, it was simple food poisoning. And, as always, there were people claiming Freddie was hysterical and had a mental breakdown. Some papers and magazines lashed out at each other, blaming Freddie’s “exhaustion” on their “smear campaigns.” Filthy hypocrites if you asked Freddie, but as per usual none of them really cared what Freddie thought.

For once that didn’t bother him. Let them pester and badger, he wasn’t about to answer. They’d made their statement. No one would be hearing anything publicly until he said so.

Sometimes, it still felt bizarre, knowing he didn’t have to look over his shoulder all the time, ever fearful that his private information would be leaked by Foster or Sheffield. Bizarre, but wonderful. The press were always invasive assholes and Freddie couldn’t stand them, but at least he knew the people he worked with could be trusted.

“Any name ideas?” Freddie asked Roger as they began to drive.

“Absolutely none,” Roger said with a laugh. “You?”

Freddie grinned at him. “Fucking zero, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June 11th** ** _   
_ ** ** _“There will be an answer, let it be. And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine on until tomorrow, let it be. I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.” -Let It Be, _ ** **The Beatles**

Normally, they’d have waited to tell anyone else but Freddie’s symptoms hit hard and they hit fast. Their families would surely be asking questions soon. There were days when Freddie couldn’t leave their bedroom because he felt so rotten and Roger hovered anxiously, while simultaneously doing his best to distract Caspian, to keep their son calm and reassure him that Freddie was okay, the baby was okay.

Roger was pretty sure Cas didn’t believe a word of it. He watched Freddie like a hawk, his eyes glued to Freddie’s still-flat stomach like he was trying to see the baby inside.

“Papa’s sick,” Cas said one morning and Roger went racing upstairs. Just like Cas said, Freddie was getting sick again. His Omega kept choking and gasping, tears streaming down his face.

“Rog-” He broke off, gagging, but he reached back blindly for him, and Roger knelt by his side, squeezing Freddie’s hand.

“I’m here,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m right here, love.”

Freddie was shuddering; he looked  _ grey.  _ He gagged again, but nothing happened, he only let out a tiny, defeated sob. Roger kept rubbing his back as Freddie flushed the toilet and wiped at his mouth. He just kept shaking and he didn’t protest as Roger lifted him up.

“I’m calling Clara,” Roger told him, his heart in his throat. “This isn’t okay, Fred.”

“I feel like shit,” Freddie said, squeezing his eyes shut. He sighed in relief as Roger lay him on the bed. He was still shivering when Roger pulled the duvet over him.

“I’m calling Clara,” he repeated. What truly frightened him was that Freddie didn’t protest at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“And all around the air did say ‘My lady soon will stir this way, in sorrow known.’ The White Queen walks and the night grows pale; stars of lovingness in her hair. Needing- unheard. Pleading- one word. So sad, my eyes; she cannot see. How did thee fare, what have thee seen? The mother of the willow green…” -White Queen (As It Began), _ ** **Queen**

That same day, thank God, they were back with Clara. She listened to the list of symptoms, giving the occasional tiny nod, her frown of concern growing every moment.

“Sounds like Hyperemesis Gravidarum,” she said.

Freddie looked utterly blank. Honestly, Roger had no idea what she was on about, but it sounded- worrying severe. Terrifying.

“What’s that?” he asked, more sharply than he intended. Surely if it was something truly awful, Clara would look more worried, or she’d give those phony condolences that he’d heard again and again from professionals?

“Severe morning sickness,” Clara said and they both sagged in relief. “It can cause weight-loss and dehydration,” she continued. “Which, of course, we want to avoid. Normally the diagnosis is if you lose five percent or more of your body-weight, but all the other symptoms match. You said you were ill five times this morning alone?”

“I still feel like shit,” Freddie admitted, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder.

“It’s not just in the morning either,” Roger added. “It’s all day, he’s woken up in the night too.”

“Sounds about right,” Clara said grimly. “Right then. Well, we can prescribe-”

“You can prescribe whatever you want,” Freddie snapped with some of his usual fire. He was about three shades too pale. “I’m not taking it.”

“Freddie-”

“At the risk of sounding childish,” Freddie said. “You can’t make me.” He twisted away from her, his face pressed firmly against Roger’s shoulder. Automatically, Roger wrapped an arm around him.

Clara looked from Freddie to Roger, a spark of determination in her eyes. “I can’t,” she acknowledged. “But your Alpha can.”

Instantly, Freddie tensed. Roger’s heart skipped a beat.

“What’re you on about?” Roger asked, voice suddenly hoarse. He didn’t like where this was going.

Clara briskly wrote a short prescription on a small piece of paper, barely bigger than Roger’s hand. “Legally,” she said as she wrote. “You can order him to take these.”

Freddie jerked away from him, looking utterly petrified. He looked about as frightened as Roger suddenly felt.

“I couldn’t,” Roger protested.

“You can.” She at least had the grace to look apologetic as she handed the prescription to him.

“I  _ can’t. _ ” His heart was pounding, and he thought of their fight. God, no, he couldn’t cross that line again. He couldn’t possibly just- just  _ order  _ Freddie around, force him to take tablets against his will. He wasn’t a child, he was Roger’s  _ husband. _

He was Roger’s husband, and he looked absolutely terrified, both hands on his stomach, eyes wide and teary, silently pleading.

Roger couldn’t do it to him. Could he? Their baby…

But it had been medication that killed Heydar. How could Roger be sure?

“I can’t,” he repeated helplessly.

Clara sighed heavily, momentarily closing her eyes. “Then he’ll need a bland diet and plenty of fluids,” she said briskly. “But Roger,  _ please  _ consider what’s best. I’m here to help, not hinder.”

At that, Freddie stood. He swayed for a moment, but grabbed his jacket.

“I’m not listening to this crap again,” he said coldly and stormed out.

The door slammed behind him, and Clara winced. She gave Roger an almost pleading glance.

“I do understand,” she said gently. “I know your history. But Roger, I’m not so careless as your previous doctors. I truly want what’s best for you all. If Freddie gets dehydrated or starts losing weight, it could cause all sorts of problems.” Her look was pointed, almost stern, and Roger couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered. He shoved the prescription into his pocket and stood, hurrying after Freddie. In the doorway, he paused, and glanced back. Clara still looked very much like a chiding teacher.

“Thanks,” Roger added, a little reluctantly if he was honest, but Clara gave him a shy smile.

“I’m here if you need me,” she said. Roger didn’t linger any further; he shut the door and caught up with Freddie half-way to the lift.

“I’m not doing it,” Freddie said, not looking at him. He was walking faster and faster, his lip trembling. “I’m  _ not. _ ”

“Okay,” Roger said, mostly to calm him down. “Okay, I- Freddie?”

Freddie looked at him and quickly wiped his eyes, torn between frustration and anguish. Roger couldn’t stand seeing him so frightened. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Roger said, taking his hand. “We’ll handle this.”

It was only a little piece of paper, but Roger swore he could feel the prescription burning against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what will the boys choose to do?


	62. This Is Gospel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not an easy decision to make, but maybe they can find a doctor they trust after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very action-packed chapter I'm afraid.

**June 18th, 1984** **  
** ** _“Somebody shine a light; I'm frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive, and shatter me. So cut me from the line, dizzy, spinning endlessly. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me!” -Shatter Me, _ ** **Lindsey Stirling**

Roger woke to the sound of Freddie being sick again. Bleary-eyed, he glanced at the clock: three in the morning.

He stumbled into the bathroom and knelt next to Freddie, wrapping an arm around him. Freddie was paler than ever, noticeably ill- they were already planning on what to say to the press. They’d told their families, and Bomi, Jer and Winifred were already concerned, asking a million questions, offering anything they could possibly need.

Of course, with Freddie about three shades too pale, limp with exhaustion and quiet, the press were rampant, insisting that Freddie was dreadfully ill, that it was terminal. They were already throwing around words like _ “cancer” _ and _ “deathly.” _ Sure, Roger and Freddie could have told the truth...But their relationship with the press had always been tumultuous, and he’d always been told you should keep it quiet until you knew it was safe, and with Freddie so sick…

Warily, his eyes flicked back to the bathroom door; he could just about see the nightstand where he’d left that prescription.

“Fred,” Roger sighed. “The tablets…”

“No,” Freddie sputtered, curled over himself, clutching his stomach and gasping. “Rog, I _ can’t. _”

Roger would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid. His hands were sweating, he thought of Heydar and his chest tightened, his eyes stung.

He didn’t really want Freddie to take those tablets either. 

But he knew this was a fight he had to have.

“Freddie, you’re _ ill, _ ” he said, careful to keep his voice gentle, not accusing. “You’re- you’re so sick, sweetheart. You’re already losing weight, you’re worn out...You can barely keep any food down, Freddie, this isn’t right. This is worse than with Heydar, you _ know _ it is.”

“I can’t do that again,” Freddie whispered hoarsely. One hand lingered near his throat and he swallowed heavily. “Roggie,_ I can’t do that again. _”

Roger wished he could promise him that everything would be okay. He faltered, biting his lip. All he could think of was Heydar. How he’d really felt like he couldn’t even get out of bed, terrified to face the world. Unable to imagine a life without Heydar in it. All that excitement turned to horror.

He couldn’t go through that again either.

But as he knelt there, his husband trembling in his arms and gagging again, sudden inspiration hit. It suddenly seemed so simple.

“Why don’t we get a second opinion?” he asked. “We can get another doctor to- to check the prescription, to tell us if it’s a good idea or if it’ll make things worse? We could-”

“I want a different doctor,” Freddie cut in. He finally looked at Roger; past the tears still in his eyes, past his shaking and exhaustion, there was a familiar fire in his eyes. “I don’t- I’m not sticking with someone who thinks it’s okay to side-step me, darling. Even if another doctor says it’s a good idea, Clara didn’t _ listen _ when I said no, she expected you to _ make _me do what she said.”

Roger couldn’t say he was surprised. He couldn’t say he blamed Freddie for that either.

“Okay,” he said gently, rubbing Freddie’s back. “Okay. We can get someone else.”

He wasn’t surprised when he had to carry Freddie back to bed either; it had been an awful day, and Freddie had barely kept a glass of water down. The sooner they could get this sorted out, the better.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**June 20th…** **  
** ** _“Oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart. The gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds, but they haven't seen the best of us yet. If you love me, let me go! If you love me, let me go” 'Cause these words are knives and often leave scars, (the fear of falling apart) and truth be told, I never was yours. The fear, the fear of falling apart.” -This Is Gospel, _ ** **Panic! At The Disco**

This doctor was an Omega, something Freddie had suggested and Roger was happy to oblige, though it certainly took some work; when they specified they wanted an Omega, they were scoffed at, and God knew most professionals in this field were Betas or Alphas, and if an Alpha parent was involved, hospitals usually tried to assign Betas in the hopes they wouldn’t be seen as a ‘threat’. 

But they dragged their heels and insisted, and finally got their way.

They met with their new doctor early in the morning. She was petite, chubby, with short grey hair and a slightly crooked nose. Smiling, she shook their hands and introduced herself: Nicola Reynolds.

She looked over the prescription assigned by Clara, humming as she read. Roger was nearly holding his breath, clinging to Freddie’s hand.

“They’re safe,” Nicolas finally announced. “I promise, they are. It should help the sickness, Freddie, dear. I can’t guarantee it will entirely _ stop _it, but these should take care of the worst of it, I assure you.”

Roger could have wept in relief. 

Freddie’s grip on his hand tightened and he let out a deep, shuddering breath of relief. He twisted his cat pendant around his fingers, a familiar nervous habit. Roger hadn’t seen him wear the damn thing in years, but Freddie had taken it out again and he’d been wearing it daily.

Truth be told, the mere sight made Roger smile.

“You’re sure?” Freddie asked Nicola quietly. “You’re _ sure, _darling?”

“I’m sure,” she said gently. Her smile was almost maternal. “I understand your fear- both of you- and I understand why you’re wary, but this _ is _safe. Even if it doesn’t work, it won’t make things more dangerous.” She addressed Freddie directly, holding his gaze, keeping her smile gentle, her expression reassuring. 

“It’s up to you, Freddie,” Nicolas continued, and Freddie didn’t look away from her.

Roger didn’t say anything, waiting for Freddie’s answer. Nicolas sat quietly, waiting patiently. 

Finally, just as Roger was about to prompt Freddie to say _ something, _his Omega spoke up. “Okay,” Freddie all but whispered. He nodded, seemingly to himself, and sat up straighter, and looked to Nicola. “Okay,” he repeated more firmly. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Nicola said. Roger wasn’t sure what she was thanking them for. For trusting her? For agreeing at all?

She wrote out a new prescription and handed it to Freddie.

“If you don’t feel any better, let me know,” she said. “But if they work we can keep it up.” She smiled again. “We’ll sort through this, boys, don’t you worry.”

Freddie looked at the prescription and frowned, clutching it tightly. His eyes flashed as he looked at Nicola. "I'm allowed to change my mind," he said, almost like a challenge. Maybe it was.

But Nicola just nodded. "I know, dear," she said, and that was that. For now at least.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“How do you feel?” Roger asked as they drove home. At Freddie’s insistence, he had his glasses on.

“I’ll tell you when I figure it out,” Freddie said with a limp smile.

“Do you trust her?”

“I think so, darling.” Freddie twisted his necklace around his fingers so tightly that Roger half-expected the chain to snap. “Do you?”

“I think so,” Roger echoed with a smile.

“And how do _ you _feel?”

“Frightened,” Roger admitted as they stopped at a red light. “I just- I want to keep you safe.”

Freddie smiled at him, poking him on the cheek. “You always do,” he teased. “That’s not new.”

Grinning, Roger caught Freddie’s hand and kissed it, his grin widening when Freddie laughed. “Yeah, you have me there,” he acknowledged. “But Nicola...She seemed to really listen to you.”

“That’s new,” Freddie scoffed. Both hands rested on his stomach again. “It won’t be much longer until my scent starts changing,” he said. “So, what do you think, dear? Should we tell the press ourselves or let the pricks figure it out on their own?”

“If I had my way they wouldn’t know at all,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. The light turned green and he began to drive. “They don’t deserve to.”

“Believe me, darling, I agree.”

Realistically, Roger knew Freddie had a point. Honestly, he didn’t want to make an announcement to the press, why _ should _they? They’d just be badgered either way, pelted with millions of invasive questions.

He didn’t want to tell the press.

But then he thought of their fans and he had to admit, he quite liked the idea of telling _ them. _ Their reveal for Caspian had been a lot of fun. He still remembered how _ loud _ that crowd had screamed. The excitement. The absolute _ joy _of the day, at least until Sheffield showed his ugly mug.

They couldn’t exactly do that again, but maybe they could still have some fun with it?

“You’re smirking, darling,” Freddie said.

“I’m planning,” Roger told him. “I think we should have fun with the announcement again and put their noses out of joint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see how things go and if Fred changes his mind or not. As for the reveal, we'll also see how that goes 😊  
Next up: the public reveal and more pregnancy content, hopefully a timeskip or two.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! 💕


	63. The Only Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys announce their pregnancy, and Nicola pays a home visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the most action-packed chapter I'm afraid, but at least the boys have a little fun 😅

**July 1st, 1984** **   
** ** _“I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't let go of what's in front of me here. I know you're leaving in the morning; when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh...You are the only exception.” -The Only Exception, _ ** **Paramore**

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to do a  _ proper  _ photoshoot?” Reid asked for the fourth time. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure the photographer wasn’t in ear shot.

“We’re sure,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “We wanted to let the fans know before letting the whole press know. This was the best idea we could come up with.” His eyes narrowed. “Freddie’s more comfortable this way; less people, less fuss.”

“Roger, I just think-”

“No offence, Reid, but I don’t really care.” Roger brushed past him with a bright smile. Freddie was sitting on a fold-out chair provided by the photographer and Crystal handed him a bottle of water.

“Alright, Fred?” Roger asked, kneeling in front of him. 

“I’ll be taking a long nap after this,” Freddie said with a smile. He gulped some water and, admittedly, he looked tired.

Still, at least this was a small ‘shoot. It had been Roger’s idea: put some photos in the fan news-letter, perhaps in the very last article, make it the last update, a surprise at the end. This way they could let the fans know, piss off the press by not doing the type of reveal they’d all want and explain to the fans why they’d be MIA for the time-being.

Brian and John had been all for it. Miami said he thought it was a sweet idea and easily arranged it all for them. Reid thought they should have done a proper photoshoot and interview, make a big deal out of it and earn money into the bargain.

But Roger and Freddie had never let the press benefit from their babies, so why start now?

“Ready, lads?” the photographer called. He was a portly Beta with long hair and a thick beard.

“Let’s get to it,” Brian said. Roger helped Freddie to his feet and they all trooped in front of the camera together.

As far as photoshoots went, it was quite fun; just them and their assistants, the photographer and his few assistants. Reid and Miami lingered by the doors, going over paperwork together, and what Roger really appreciated was that none of this was inappropriate. No one tried anything. It was some simple group shots, the poses purposefully angled to show Freddie’s barely-there bump. 

As the photographer went over the shots, Freddie yawned, pressing a hand over his mouth.

“Alright?” John asked, forehead creased in concern.

“Knackered,” Freddie said. He was rapidly starting to  _ look  _ knackered despite his make-up, but he stayed gamely smiling, chin up. 

Roger was just glad those tablets had been doing their job. True to Nicola’s word, they hadn’t  _ stopped  _ the sickness, but Freddie wasn’t as bad as he’d been before.

Roger wished it would stop entirely. That Freddie could have one of those happy, stress-free pregnancies they saw in movies. It seemed fated to not happen, but Roger would take what he could get.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When the photos were published, the press lost it. The big name papers and magazines were fuming that they missed the opportunity to handle the reveal themselves; all their requests for photos and interviews were firmly denied. Miami stepped up to handle it, pointing out again and again that  _ Queen  _ said in their own news-letter that they’d be taking a break for the time-being, to ensure Freddie and the baby were as healthy and safe as possible.

Their message to the fans had been a simple one: announcing the pregnancy, giving a rough idea for the due-date, explaining they’d be taking a break and thanking the fans for being so understanding.

_ “No tour just yet! That’ll have to wait until the newest baby-Queen has safely arrived. We’d like to thank everyone in advance for their patience and understanding.” _

And that was the statement they stuck with. That was all the press would get from them.

“I wish I could see their faces!” Freddie cackled. Phoebe had brought in a copy of  _ The Sun;  _ their headline was about Freddie’s pregnancy and, with  _ Queen  _ refusing to give more details, all they could do was quote their news-letter, along with some barbed compliments and comments about  _ Queen’s  _ radio silence.

“Serves them right,” Phoebe scoffed.

“What did they do?” Cas asked, leaning across the breakfast table to peer at the article, upside-down.

“Nothing this time,” Roger said, highly satisfied. “They’re just upset we won’t talk to them.”

“They’re nosy,” Cas said, wrinkling his nose.

“You’ve got that right, Cas,” Freddie said, ruffling Cas’s hair. “They’re  _ very _ nosy.”

  
  
  
  
  


**   
** **July 12th...**

** _“Don’t stop, march on. Baby, remember when we learned how to fly? Play make believe, we were young and had time on our side. We’re stuck on the ground, got lost can’t be found; remember that you’re still alive. Keep marching on.” -Battle Scars (Reprise), _ ** **Paradise Fears**

The sickness seemed to come in waves, stopping and then starting again. There were days when Freddie had plenty of energy; despite his nausea, he could at least get up and go about his day.

But then there were days like today. Days when Freddie could barely even sit up. Days when they had to keep a basin next to bed, because he could barely even keep a glass of water down.

“What if something’s wrong with the baby?” Freddie asked, voice cracking with exhaustion. He had another migraine, and Roger had closed all the curtains in their bedroom, keeping the room as dim as possible. “What if that’s what this is all about?”

“Nicola said they seemed healthy last time,” Roger said, but Freddie’s worry had ignited his own doubts. What if there was something wrong with the baby after all?

“I’m gonna call Nicola,” he said and rushed from the room, pausing to sternly tell Phoebe to sit with Freddie.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To be fair to Nicola, she was understanding when Roger explained they couldn’t come to see her this time. It took a few hours, but she arrived at Garden Lodge, hauling along a briefcase, Freddie’s file clutched tightly to her chest.

“Hello, Roger, dear,” she said cheerfully enough, but she looked frazzled. “Where’s Freddie?”

“Upstairs,” Roger said, gesturing for her to follow him.

Nicola tutted sympathetically when she saw Freddie, sitting next to him as gently as she could. “Alright, lovie,” she said. “Symptoms? Has it been like this all day?”

“Started around ten,” Freddie mumbled, closing his eyes again. “More of the usual.”

Roger sat on Freddie’s free side and grabbed his hand as Nicola checked his temperature and blood pressure, gently prodding at Freddie’s stomach; she took out her stethoscope and listened to the baby, humming to herself as she worked.

“All I can say for now is to keep on the medication,” she said gently. “Stay hydrated. Don’t try to eat anything too rich or seasoned. Keep it simple and bland.”

“How dull,” Freddie managed to joke. Nicola smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’d prefer if I told you to eat nothing but ice-cream,” she said. “But I promise you, Freddie, you’re doing all that needs to be done.” She turned to Roger. “But I must add, if he seems dehydrated, or if that migraine doesn’t go away, bring him in. We’ll keep monitoring your weight, dearie; for now you’re doing quite well, but of course with the persistent sickness you’re not gaining as much as we’d expect just yet.” Her eyes were sympathetic, her smile gentle. “With luck, this will blow over by your second trimester.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Nicola had gone, Freddie settled back down, pulling the duvet right up to his nose.

“I hope she’s right, Roggie,” he said tiredly. “I really hope this wears off. I don’t think I could do this for another six months.”

It was right there, on the tip of Roger’s tongue to say,  _ You can do anything.  _ But this wasn’t a concert, an interview; this wasn’t Freddie standing up to some creepy Alpha or executive. This was Freddie, his husband, in pain. Roger didn’t  _ want  _ him to do this for six months.

He didn’t want Freddie to have to do this at all. If Roger could take the pain from him, and bear it himself instead, he would.

But he couldn’t; all he could do was hug his husband and fetch him his medication. All he could do was try to make everything even a little better. Useless as he felt, it was all he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking next chapter will have a bit of a time-skip: gender-reveal, name choices, and try to move towards the end of the pregnancy.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! Stay safe 💕


	64. Rule The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find out the baby's gender and in the end it's Caspian who finds a baby name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which baby names are chosen.

**August 8th, 1984** **   
** ** _“You light the skies up above me. A star, so bright, you blind me, yeah. Don't close your eyes, don't fade away, don't fade away, oh; yeah, you and me, we can ride on a star if you stay with me, girl. We can rule the world. Yeah, you and me, we can light up the sky if you stay by my side; we can rule the world.” -Rule The World, _ ** **Take That**

It was one of the better days; Freddie was nauseous and tired, but he got up easily enough and managed to eat breakfast.

“Plans for today?” Phoebe asked.

“We’ve an ultrasound today, darling,” Freddie said, sipping at his tea. “We’re hoping we’ll be able to tell the baby’s gender.”

At that, Cas sat up straight, eyes bright. “You can tell if it’s a boy or girl, right?”

“We hope so,” Roger said, ruffling Cas’s hair. “And then we’ll take you to the park like we promised.”

Cas beamed, quickly eating the last of his eggs. 

“Will you tell me if it’s a boy or girl?” he asked eagerly. 

“We will,” Freddie promised with a smile. “You can help us tell everyone else, darling, how’s that sound?”

“Deal!” Cas jumped off his seat. “Can I go watch the telly?”

“Go ahead,” Roger said and Cas ran off. “Thanks for watching him again today, Pheebs.”

“No problem,” Phoebe said. “It’s not like he’s any trouble.” He stacked up the empty plates and threw them a mischievous little smile. “But you’d better tell me the baby’s gender too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“You’re still not quite at the weight we’d like,” Nicola said. “But you say you’re feeling better?”

“Today’s been okay so far,” Freddie said. “I mean- don’t get me wrong, darling, I feel sick, but I haven’t  _ been  _ sick for a few days now.”

“Good.” Nicola smiled at him. “And baby’s all healthy. Small, but active.”

“Believe me, I know,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. “They haven’t stopped kicking.”

Nicola seemed pleased by that and then came the words they had been hoping for; “Would you like to know the sex?”

“We would,” Roger said. He took Freddie’s hand, both of them hanging on tightly.

Nicola’s smile widened. “Well, it looks like you’re having another boy.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Outside, Roger lifted Freddie straight up, spinning him around.

“Another boy!” he laughed. “Fred, we’re having a boy!”

“I heard her, Roggie,” Freddie said, giggling, clinging to Roger for dear life. Roger spun him so fast that his cat pendant nearly smacked them both, but they hardly noticed; they were both laughing, clinging to each other. Freddie leaned down to kiss him and Roger finally slowed down.

Everyone that walked past stared at them, but so what? They were allowed to celebrate.

“Better start looking at names again,” Roger said, setting Freddie back down.

Freddie groaned, throwing his head back. “Naming cats is easier,” he said, taking Roger’s hand again as they walked to the car. 

Considering how much effort had gone into naming Heydar and Caspian, Roger was inclined to agree. The cats were normally named within minutes, maybe a few hours. But babies? That could take months and it drove them nuts every time.

“It needs to be something interesting,” Freddie said, frowning. “Nothing boring.”

Roger nodded, mulling it over. Nothing popped to mind right away; in fact, no names popped to mind at all.

Well, they still had about five months. How hard could it really be?

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Got no feel, I got no rhythm; I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing). I'm OK, I'm alright (he's alright, he's alright), I ain't gonna face no defeat (yeah!) I just gotta get out of this prison cell, someday I'm gonna be free, Lord! Find me somebody to love. Find me somebody to love. Find me somebody to love.” -Somebody To Love, _ ** **Queen**

They sat on a bench, Cas sitting between them eating an ice-cream, waiting on Deacy and Brian with their kids. 

“So did the doctor tell you?” Cas asked. “Is the baby a boy or a girl?”

Freddie and Roger glanced at each other, smiling. 

“It’s a boy, love,” Freddie told him, and Cas whooped, kicking his legs.

_ “I told you so!” _ he cheered. “Daddy, Papa, I  _ told _ you so!”

“You did,” Roger laughed. 

“Thank you for making the baby a boy, Papa,” Cas said, lounging against Freddie’s side. “Girls are gross.”

Freddie barely bit back a fit of laughter. “You’re welcome, Cas,” he said snickering, bringing his hand up to his mouth.

“Hello, lads!” came Brian’s call. He was strolling down the path, Jimmy holding his left hand and Louisa holding his right. He had Deacy with him; Robert rushed ahead of them. Michael and Laura walked obediently at Deacy’s side, and Joshua was in his stroller, already looking close to nodding off.

“Hi, Uncle Rog, Uncle Fred,” Robert said brightly. “Hi, Cas.”

“Can we go play now?” Cas asked Freddie and Roger.

“You know the drill, bring the others with you.” The boys groaned, but gathered up the others; Cas rolled his eyes when Laura held his hand, but otherwise didn’t protest. They were off in a flash, running towards the swings and slides.

“How’d it go with the doctor?” Brian asked, sitting next to Roger. Deacy sat next to Freddie; Joshua was starting to snore.

“The tablets are working- well, as best they can anyway,” Freddie said, both hands on his stomach.

“And…?” Deacy leaned forward with an expectant smile.

“It’s a boy,” Freddie said, unable to hold a grin back.

“Congratulations, lads,” Brian said, clapping Roger on the back while Deacy gave Freddie a quick hug.

“Any name ideas?” Deacy asked. Freddie and Roger instantly groaned, Roger burying his face in his hands and Freddie crossing his arms with an impatient huff.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Freddie said. “Naming cats is so much easier than naming babies.”

“Agreed,” Brian said.

“Really? Naming the kids was easy,” Deacy said. Instantly, the other three turned around to slap him.

“Oh shut up,” Roger said, smirking. “Mister Perfect.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**August 20th…**

They were planning on telling their parents that week. As per usual, Freddie was idly flicking through a book of baby names, frowning more and more with each passing name. Why did every name suddenly seem boring or ugly? Even the other names he’d considered for Caspian didn’t seem right anymore.

_Zachary,_ _Morgan, Jamshid, Andrew…_

Eventually, Freddie threw the book in frustration. It bounced off the wall, landing on a side table. Freddie turned away and turned on the television.

Admittedly, he ended up watching romance movies for the next few hours, until Cas wandered in.

“Papa, dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks, darling,” Freddie said. He stretched and hauled himself to his feet. Cas wandered over to the book; he opened it and flicked through it rapidly.

“Do you have any nice names, Papa?” he asked.

“Not yet, dear,” Freddie said.

Cas was rapidly scanning a page, eyes bright and interested.

“I like this one,” he said, poking the page. “See, Papa?”

“Which one, darling?” Freddie peered over his shoulder, and Cas poked the page again.

“This one,” he said. “It’s pretty.”

Freddie looked and was instantly smiling.  _ Roshan: light, bright.  _ Cas was right, it was pretty. Very pretty actually.

He  _ liked _ it. He liked it a lot.

It suddenly sounded perfect. 

“It  _ is  _ pretty, Cas,” Freddie said. He marked the page and set the book down. “I’ll show it to your daddy.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Roggie, love, Cas found a name,” Freddie told him in bed that night. His head was resting on Roger’s chest and Roger yawned, lazily playing with Freddie’s hair.

“Yeah?” he asked, fond and amused. “Which one?”

“Roshan,” Freddie said. “I like it. What do you think?”

“Roshan,” Roger repeated. “Hm...Roshan…” He grinned down at him. “You know what? Sounds perfect to me.”

“We should raise his allowance,” Freddie joked. “He’s a little genius.”

“He’s a big help, that’s what he is.”

Well, Freddie could hardly argue with that.

His hand went down to his stomach with a smile.  _ Roshan Taylor. _ It sounded perfect, it sounded beautiful. And when they told their parents about the gender, they’d actually have a name this time, which was one less headache.

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up with him, maybe it was the relief of having Roshan’s name sorted and knowing the baby was healthy, but it was the best night’s sleep Freddie had gotten in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas is a helpful little guy 💕


	65. Leave Out All The Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things go wrong, it's down to Brian to be the shoulder to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: holy shit, this story is officially a year old! Remember when I said this story would be about 14 chapters? Good times 😂
> 
> Second: warning ahead for hospital scenes and mentions of blood and a traumatic birth, but nothing too graphic

**November 1st, 1984** **   
** ** _“When you feel my heat, look into my eyes; it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide. Don't get too close, it's dark inside; it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.” -Demons, _ ** **Imagine Dragons**

It was too early.

Freddie had been feeling awful again the last two weeks and was strictly on bed rest. Roger and Phoebe took it in turns to sit with him, often joined by Brian, John, Mary or Kashmira, even Miami sometimes. 

It was Phoebe who was looking after him when his waters broke.

“Oh  _ fuck, _ ” Freddie groaned. His eyes were wide, frightened and he said, “It’s too early again.”

Phoebe knew all about Caspian’s birth; Freddie had told him everything. He could well understand why his friend looked so worried, but Phoebe smiled reassuringly, patting his hand and grabbing the hospital bag.

“Don’t you fret, my love,” he said gently. “You’ll both be right as rain.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger was terrified, though he did his best to hide it. He resisted the urge to just  _ speed,  _ fuck the damn red lights, and get to the hospital as quickly as he could. Freddie was going through his breathing exercises, and all Roger would think of was that doctor hurrying Caspian away; he remembered the alarms, he remembered the blood between Freddie’s legs.

_ Not this time,  _ he told himself.  _ It’ll be okay. _

But Freddie was pale and clammy, shivering, eyes tightly closed. He looked seconds away from being sick.

“Rog, I don’t feel right,” he said. His eyes opened, watery and terrified. 

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked, more sharply than he intended.

“I don’t know,” Freddie said, shaking his head. He winced, both hands on his stomach, bending over. “I just- something isn’t right, Roggie.”

Fuck it then; Roger drove faster, gritting his teeth, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“You’ll be okay,” he said firmly. “I promise, Fred, you’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t really promise that, and he knew it. Freddie knew it too, but his Omega nodded all the same, closing his eyes again and focussing on his breathing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was around five in the evening when Brian’s phone rang and he answered it to Roger sobbing, babbling frantically.

“Rog, calm down!” Brian cried. “What’s happened?”  _ It’s Freddie, it’s the baby, oh God something’s wrong… _

“They kicked me out,” Roger sobbed. “They- it all went wrong again, Brimi.” He could hear Roger take deep, shuddering breaths. There was a ringing in Brian’s ears and he tried very hard to stay focussed, to listen.

“What happened?” he repeated, clutching the phone so tightly he thought he heard something crack.

“There was-” Roger broke off was a sob. “Roshan, he- he was stuck. Freddie kept pushing, he was- nothing was  _ happening.  _ And then…”

“Rog?”

“It was a hemorrhage again, I think.” Roger’s voice was little more than a horrified whisper. “There was all this  _ blood, _ and-” Beyond his choked little noises, he was worryingly quiet.

Brian felt like the ground had been yanked out from under his feet. He was falling down a dark tunnel, hearing things he most certainly did not want to hear.

“Roggie…”

“They kicked me out,” Roger repeated weakly. “They took Roshan, they said he’s not well. In distress, his- his _breathing,_ I can’t- I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I’ll be right there,” Brian promised. He wasn’t sure how he managed to sound so firm when all he wanted was to scream. “I’ll be right there, Roger, I promise.”

His only answer was another defeated sob, and the line went dead.

“Chrissie?” Brian called. “Chrissie, I have to go to the hospital.”

Instantly, Chrissie came running from upstairs. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“It’s Freddie,” Brian said, hurrying for his jacket and keys. “And Roshan. Something’s gone wrong.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian had only ever seen Roger this defeated in hospitals. First, it was when they lost Heydar. Then it was just after Caspian’s birth, when they were still waiting for news.

This time, it was even worse.

This time, it seemed, it was truly a matter of life and death.

Deacy shortly joined them; Brian had taken it upon himself to call Phoebe, and Phoebe agreed to not tell Caspian yet. They were to stay home until Brian called, for better or worse.

Deacy paced restlessly, but Roger didn’t move. He sat on one of those ugly orange plastic chairs, staring blankly at the wall. He was pale as death, his hair a tangled mess, his lip bitten ragged, tear tracks on his cheeks. He suddenly looked so small, so much younger.

Brian wasn’t used to thinking of Roger as small, or even as someone who needed protecting. Roger always loudly proclaimed that he could look after himself; Roger was the protector, not the one who needed protecting. But this time he did, and Brian was ready to be the shoulder to lean on, the rock; he was ready to step up and be the protector.

But he was terrified.

One of his best friends could be dying right this second; his Freddie, his soul brother. Roshan could be dying; only a few hours old, and he could be gone.

When he asked, he was simply told they had no updates yet. It was infuriating, but something to cling to: if Roshan or Freddie were dead, or about to die, they would be told. Morbid as it was, at least it was something.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done; help me leave behind some reasons to be missed. Don't resent me, and when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory. Leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest.” -Leave Out All The Rest, _ ** **Linkin Park**

Roger wasn’t sure how long he sat there. He could only nod or shake his head when Brian and Deacy asked him questions. He stared straight ahead, not even wanting to blink because-

_ Alarms blaring, Freddie’s hand seizing in his, a tiny pained cry and then the blood, so much blood, too much- _

He saw it every time he closed his eyes. He could hear the alarms, he could hear Freddie screaming; he heard Roshan’s weak sobs, ragged and too quiet.

_ “What’s wrong?” Roger demanded. “What’s happening?” _

_ “Get him out of here,” came the brisk order, and Roger was pulled away from Freddie. He tried to hold onto him, to keep Freddie safe in his arms, but they pulled him away, they ignored him screaming and then the door slammed in his face, he- _

Roger shuddered, clapping his hands over his ears, wishing and wishing for the screaming to stop.

He might lose his husband and baby tonight. He might have to tell Caspian that his papa wasn’t coming home.

He couldn’t even scream or cry anymore. Any sounds he tried to make died in his throat, and only a strangled whine escaped.

_ Please no, please no, please no. _

He’d promised to protect Freddie. He’d sworn, years and years ago, that he’d keep his best friend safe. Fat load of good he was doing. He put Freddie in this position again.

“Rog?” Deacy’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing. Roger tried to answer, but just ended up nodding in acknowledgment. 

“I’m going to the cafeteria,” Deacy said, voice quiet and gentle, afraid Roger would break any moment, no doubt. “Do you want any tea? Coffee?”

Roger shook his head. Deacy gave a small sigh and was on his way. Brian claimed the seat next to Roger, crossing and uncrossing his long legs.

And the wait continued. Roger allowed his mind to drift, to fade away; he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was nearly midnight when they were called. Roger looked at the doctor with dead eyes and a defeated expression. Brian took his and Deacy’s hands, holding on tight.

“They’re both stable,” the doctor said; he was a tall, skinny guy, a Beta. “Roshan’s in the NICU at the moment.” He looked at Roger with clear sympathy. “He’s two months early, but more to the point sir, I’m afraid your son is having difficulty breathing. We need to keep him monitored; being so premature, he needs to be kept safe.”

Roger was biting his fist in distress. Brian dimly heard Deacy mutter, “Oh fuck.”

“And Fred?” Roger asked, voice cracking. It was the first time he’d spoken in hours.

“Stable,” the doctor repeated. “He’s still under, but we don’t believe he’s in any further danger. Our main concern is your son.”

Brian’s heart sank as he looked at Roger. He looked like he couldn’t quite understand what he was hearing. 

Brian tried to imagine any of his children in this situation and wanted to die on the spot.

“Can I see them?” Roger asked. He was beginning to shiver. _“Please,_ I-”

“Freddie first,” the doctor said, still gentle. Brian had to hand it to him, he sounded so reassuring, so at ease. 

“Go on,” Brian said, squeezing Roger’s hand. “We’ll be right here, mate.”

Roger nodded, some life returning to his eyes, but he still looked so lost as he followed the doctor, leaving Brian and Deacy to wait again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Deacy groaned, burying his face in his hands. “God, Brian, I just- not again.”

_ It’s worse this time,  _ Brian thought bleakly, because there was no denying that. But he couldn’t bear to say that out loud. He couldn’t do that to Deacy, or to himself for that matter.

So instead he said, “It’ll be alright; it’ll all work out.” He took Deacy’s hand again, and their resident Beta squeezed so hard his nails cut Brian’s palms.

Brian couldn’t blame him. He was sure his grip was hurting Deacy terribly too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise they'll be okay! Happy endings only for this series!
> 
> Next up: we have plenty of Roshan content- Roger seeing him and Freddie, Freddie waking up and everyone taking it in turns to see the baby
> 
> If anyone wants to yell at me (about Queen or otherwise), or just has questions about this 'verse, I'm on tumblr: @i-lay-my-life-before-queen


	66. Tightrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may not be allowed home yet, but Freddie and Roger can still look after Roshan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains hospital scenes, specifically we will be seeing Roshan in an incubator so if this could upset you please proceed with caution. As always, stay safe 💕

** _“So I risk it all just to be with you, and I risk it all for this life we choose. Hand in my hand, and you promised to never let go; we're walking the tightrope. High in the sky, we can see the whole world down below; we're walking the tightrope. Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall? Well, it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view. Walking the tightrope with you.” -Tightrope, _ ** **The Greatest Showman**

Freddie looked so painfully small. His heart monitor beeped steadily, but Roger wanted to break down and cry.  _ That’s it,  _ he told himself.  _ No more children. _

He held onto Freddie’s hand, and kissed his forehead, willing his eyes to stay dry and failing.

“Don’t leave me,” Roger pleaded quietly. “Please stay.”

Freddie didn’t magically wake up and answer, but his heart was beating and that was what Roger clung to for now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Seeing Roshan was another matter entirely. Roger took one look at him and burst into tears, clinging to Brian and Deacy. Even his friends looked frightened; there were tears in Deacy’s eyes, Brian’s breathing wavered unsteadily, but he drew himself up and led Roger over to the incubator.

Roger couldn’t stand it. Roshan was so  _ tiny, _ he looked small enough for Brian to cradle in one hand. He didn’t look _ real.  _ He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a doll; delicate, fragile. 

And he was all alone in a damn  _ box,  _ hooked up to tubes and wires, one attached to his nose, two to his chest, breathing tubes, feeding tubes, and God-knew-what, and Roger was doing his damn best not to panic and utterly failing.

He was so small. 

“We’ll have to buy new baby things,” Roger said, wiping ineffectually at his eyes. “He’s too small for them.”

“He’ll be okay, Rog,” Deacy said, squeezing his shoulder. “I know it’s scary, but he’ll be okay. He’s breathing, see? Look at him.”

Roger looked, taking in the small thatch of black hair, the utterly tiny hands and red cheeks.

“He looks like Fred,” Brian said, somewhat shakily.

“He does,” Roger agreed, his breathing evening out. He took a step closer, his hand hovering just short of the incubator; as he watched, Roshan’s eyes opened a crack. Just a crack, not too noticeable really, but enough to make Roger’s heart leap.

“Hey, little guy,” he said, smiling, feeling dangerously close to breaking down again. 

“He’s a fighter,” Brian said, standing behind Roger. Deacy went to the other side of the incubator, watching Roshan closely.

“If he’s anything like Freddie, he’s bound to be,” Roger said. He wished he could hold Roshan properly, reassure himself that his baby was safe. Maybe reassure Roshan that he wasn’t on his own.

“You’ll get to see your papa soon, I promise,” Roger told him. “And then we’ll take you home, so you stay safe until we can, okay?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**November 2nd…** **   
** ** _“How rare and beautiful it is, to even exist; I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again, I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen. I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time; that the universe was made, just to be seen by my eyes.” -Saturn, _ ** **Sleeping At Last**

Roger would thank every lucky star there was that Freddie woke up before Caspian arrived.

He was sitting by Freddie’s bedside, holding his hand. His mind was still in freefall, still struggling to grasp everything that had happened. All that blood, being thrown from the room; the sirens, those damnable tubes hooked up to his son, his husband lying unresponsive in a hospital bed. He wasn’t sure how to explain it all to Cas. He wasn’t even sure how to explain it to himself, let alone anyone else. He didn’t want to tell his mum, he didn’t want to tell Freddie’s family or their friends.

And then Freddie’s hand curled around his, squeezing gently.

“Rog?”

_ “Freddie!” _

In a flash, Roger gathered Freddie in his arms, chest heaving, sobbing despite his dry eyes, holding him as close as he could, his nose pressed against Freddie’s bond mark. Freddie’s arms weakly wrapped around him, shaking.

“Is Roshan okay?” Freddie asked, voice weak but frantic, oh so frantic.

“He’s- he’s okay,” Roger said. “In the NICU, I...He’s okay.”

Freddie peered up at him, eyes wide and terrified, but he nodded, biting his lip. “And me?” he asked. “Am I okay? What did they say?”

“Well...” Roger hesitated. He sighed and pressed the button to call for assistance. “I’ll let them explain.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie’s face was impassive as the doctor explained another birth could kill him; that his chances of carrying another child to term as it was were horribly slim. There was a very low chance of Freddie  _ not  _ miscarrying.

Freddie took it all in silently, shoulders drooping, still holding Roger’s hand.

Once the doctor left though, he leaned against Roger with a heavy sigh.

“That’s it then,” he said shakily. “No more children.”

Roger held onto him and waited; sure enough, Freddie began to cry, so quietly that Roger struggled to hear him.

All he could do was hold onto him, try to soothe him, though both their hearts were breaking.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was clearly driving Freddie mad that he hadn’t seen Roshan for himself yet. Even Cas had seen him, albeit briefly and under strict supervision.

Every time a doctor or nurse appeared, Freddie would impatiently demand to know when he could see their baby and the answer was always the same: hopefully tomorrow, permitting that Freddie wasn’t in too much pain to be moved.

“I’m fine  _ now, _ ” Freddie huffed, a blatant lie if Roger ever saw one.

“Fred,” he said, and Freddie looked at him from the corner of his eye, frowning.

“I’m fine,” Freddie repeated sullenly, though not so sternly.

“Just rest for now,” Roger said, half pleading. “You can see him tomorrow.”

“Will you go check on him?” Freddie asked. “Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Roger kissed his cheek and stood. “Pheebs and Cas are in the cafeteria, I’ll go get them.”

“Thanks, Roggie.”

Freddie was still too pale and wan, his eyes drooping tiredly, and Roger was loath to leave him, especially in this state- but someone had to look in on Roshan, and Roger didn’t quite trust anyone other than himself and Freddie to be able to tell if he was okay. Not even their friends, really. Not when Roshan was so delicate.

“I’ll be right back, love,” he promised and went in search of Phoebe and Cas.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**November 3rd…** **   
** ** _“You can fit me inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen, next to your heartbeat where I should be; keep it deep within your soul. When I'm away, I will remember how you kissed me, under the lamppost back on Sixth Street. Hearing you whisper through the phone, ‘Wait for me to come home.’” -Photograph, _ ** **Ed Sheeran**

The next day, as agreed, Freddie was placed in a wheelchair and brought to see Roshan. He kept twisting his cat pendant around his fingers, tapping the fingers of his free hand against his knee.

“Don’t you worry, dearie,” the nurse said brightly. “Your little lad’s doing quite well.”

Freddie clearly didn’t believe her, but he gave her a tight smile, practically vibrating with impatience.

And then he finally saw Roshan for himself. The nurse backed away to give them privacy and Roger wheeled Freddie closer, as close as they could get.

Shaking, Freddie slipped a hand through the side of the incubator and Roshan weakly wrapped a hand around Freddie’s finger. He was in a little white sleeping suit and tiny matching hat.

“He’s so tiny,” Freddie whispered and tears started streaming down his cheeks. “Oh God, Rog,  _ look  _ at him. Look how tiny he is.”

“I know,” Roger said, pulling up another of those uncomfortable chairs. “He’s a trooper though. They said he’s doing alright, really.”

Freddie nodded, still sniffling, eyes trained on their baby.

“I don’t want to leave him here,” he said with a shaky smile. “How the hell are we supposed to leave him here?”

“I don’t know,” Roger admitted. Every single one of his instincts screamed in protest at the very though. At least they’d been allowed to take Cas home on time. How could they possibly leave Roshan by himself?

“He’s beautiful,” Freddie said, smiling when Roshan yawned, still holding onto Freddie’s finger. 

“He is.” Smiling, Roger added, “He looks like you.”

“Flatterer.”

For a while, they both sat there in silence, watching over their son. Freddie pulled his hand back to let Roger have a turn, both of them beaming when Roshan immediately latched onto Roger’s finger.

“We love you,” Freddie quietly told Roshan. “We love you so much, Roshan; so does your brother and all your aunts and uncles- your grandparents will be here later too.” His eyes were watering again, with upset, pain or exhaustion, Roger wasn’t sure. Maybe it was everything. “We love you,” Freddie repeated, a little desperately. 

“We do,” Roger said, gently running his thumb over Roshan’s tiny hand. “And just you wait, we’ll all be spoiling you rotten.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Back in Freddie’s room, they curled up together on the bed, clinging to each other.

“I hate leaving him alone up there,” Freddie said, his face pressed against Roger’s chest. “He shouldn’t be alone.” He sighed, waving his hand as he spoke. “Maybe it’s silly, but- but I don’t want him to feel like we’re- like we’re abandoning him, or we don’t love him…”

“He won’t be there for long,” Roger promised. “We’ll be taking him home as soon as we can- and we’ll see him every day until he can.”

It seemed to reassure Freddie, at least a little. He settled down again, still against Roger’s chest. Truth be told, it was an idea Roger was clinging to as well: they could see Roshan every day. They could still look after him.

All the same, Roger would feel much more reassured when he had his husband and sons home safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we only have a chapter or two left??? Help???
> 
> Next up, the boys bring Roshan home! 💕


	67. Mother Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to bring Roshan home, and Miami has some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, we're nearly done 😶 A huge thanks to everyone that's stuck with this story so far!

**November 21st, 1984** **  
** ** _“Out in the city, in the cold world outside, I don't want pity, just a safe place to hide. Mama, please, let me back inside. I don't want to make no waves, but you can give me all the love that I crave. I can't take it if you see me cry, I long for peace before I die. All I want is to know that you're there.” - Mother Love, _ ** **Queen**

They were finally allowed to bring Roshan home. He was up to a healthy weight, he was breathing unassisted, with a healthy appetite. He was still painfully small, so delicate and doll-like that Freddie was terrified of hurting him, but he felt weak with relief when they were finally told Roshan could come home. They’d been in the hospital every day to see him, bringing bottles of milk with them, so Freddie could at least feel like he was doing  _ something  _ to look after his child.

“Where’d you get that?” Cas had asked the first time he saw Freddie packing some bottles of milk in a bag. “I thought Uncle Phoebe said we need to go buy milk?”

“I made it, darling,” Fredie said, too exhausted to think of some other story. “It’s something you can do when you have a baby.”

“So, you’re like...A bottle?”

“Kind of,” Freddie said, smiling despite himself.

“Cool.”

It had felt so  _ wrong  _ to leave the hospital without Roshan. Cas asked, every day, when his brother was coming to live with them and every day they had to say they didn’t know yet.

Now they finally had an answer. Now, finally, they could bring Roshan home, safe and sound.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger watched, smiling, as Freddie carried Roshan out of the hospital, snug in his carrier. Cas stuck close to Freddie’s side, watching Roshan with awed, wide eyes.

“He looks better,” Cas said as they reached the car. “He doesn’t look sick.”

“He’s better, buddy,” Roger said, ruffling Cas’s hair. Sometimes the kid was too observant. 

“He’s staying with us now, right?”

“He is.”

Freddie sat in the back of the car with the boys, holding Roshan’s tiny hand. After a moment, Cas did the same, smiling at his brother, always curious. Roger drove slowly, cautiously, keeping a wary eye out for the press- God knew they’d been royal pains, hanging around Garden Lodge and the hospital, demanding to know if Roshan was about to die, demanding to know if Freddie was still sick, if it was true he’d nearly died, had his heart stopped at all, was the baby well, what was wrong with them all…

They’d issued a statement, which essentially boiled down to “Fuck yourselves,” and wouldn’t be moved. As far as Roger was concerned, this wasn’t the public’s business. Never would be.

Mercifully, there was no sign of any reporters or paparazzi around Garden Lodge and they reached their home in peace.

Inside, Brian, Deacy and their families, Phoebe, Mary, Winifred, Clare, Freddie’s parents, Kashmira and her husband and children all waited in the living room. They’d pinned a bright blue banner over the fireplace that said,  _ ‘Welcome Home, Roshan!’  _ Roger recognised Brian’s handwriting.

Phoebe hurried forward to help Freddie into a free seat and Freddie freed Roshan from the carrier, cradling the baby close to his chest. Roshan blinked, squirming slightly, twisting about to press into Freddie.

“Oh, the little sweetheart,” Jer cooed. “Darling, he’s looking so much better.”

“He is,” Freddie agreed. He kept a firm grip on Roshan and the cats came sniffing, all of them curling up around Freddie’s chair or on his feet, their bright eyes trained on the baby. Back on guarding duty. Delilah stood on her hind legs to sniff Roshan before settling down again, apparently satisfied.

“Can I hold him?” Cas asked.

“You have to sit down, darling,” Freddie said.

“And be  _ very  _ careful,” Roger added. “Promise, Cas?”

“Promise,” Cas said, rushing to the armchair, beaming with excitement. He turned to Deacy and said, “I haven’t gotten to hold him yet.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Deacy said.

The other children watched curiously as Roshan was safey deposited in Cas’s arms. The younger ones quickly lost interest, but Robert stood nearby.

“Can I try?” he asked.

“Maybe when he’s a bit bigger, Robbie,” Veronica cut in quickly. Robert looked disappointed, but he stayed by Cas’s side.

“You’re both okay then?” Kash asked, squeezing Freddie’s arm.

“We’re okay,” Freddie said; he kept a careful eye on the boys and Roger sat next to him, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist. “He’s been given a clear bill of health, and he’s another appointment soon.”

Kashmira’s face creased in sympathy, glancing to Nathalie, and her son, sitting on Roger Cooke’s lap.

“Promise to call if you need anything, Freddie.”

Freddie promised in an absent-minded way, still watching Cas and Roshan, so Roger said, “We will, Kash,” to reassure her that they were actually listening.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**December 23rd**

** _“Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls, every time that you lose it sing it for the world. Sing it from the heart, sing it ‘til you're nuts, sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts. Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind, sing about everyone that you left behind. Sing it for the world, sing it for the world!” - Sing, _ ** **My Chemical Romance**

“So, Bob’s organising an event,” was the first thing Miami said when Freddie answered the phone. He balanced Roshan in one arm, gently rocking him as he began to doze off.

“Bob?”

“Bob Geldof, Fred.”

“Oh.” Freddie frowned, sitting down. “Another song?”

“A concert,” Miami said. “It seems to be getting bigger and bigger. He wants you boys to play. Everyone gets twenty minutes each on stage, he says.”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling…”

“It won’t be ready until next year,” Miami said. He sounded quite pleased. “He says Elton, Bowie and McCartney are already on board.”

Freddie let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “He’s been busy,” he said.

“He has. And he won’t take no for an answer.”

Freddie looked down at Roshan and hesitated. “I don’t know, darling,” he repeated, biting his lip. “I’ve the baby…”

“I promise you, Fred, this thing won’t be happening any time soon,” Miami said, as calm and reassuring as ever. “I’ll let the four of you discuss it among yourselves, of course, but be warned, Bob’s quite determined to get you.”

“He wasn’t earlier,” Freddie scoffed.

“Fred.”

“I’ll tell Rog,” Freddie said. “But you can call Brian and John, darling.”

Miami sounded much more pleased when they ended the call. More than likely, he knew what Freddie already knew himself; that they’d say yes. They may hesitate, they may make excuses, but he was certain, deep down, that they’d agree in the end.

He supposed it was for a good cause, if nothing else. And if Bob had already convinced Elton, David and Paul? He was clearly aiming high already, even in the early stages of planning. Freddie had to hand it to him, the man was committed.

(And as it turned out, Bob knew how to bluff; Freddie later found out from Elton, that Elton had only agreed because Bob told him that  _ Queen  _ and Bowie had already agreed.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


“It could be good,” Freddie said.

“I don’t know,” Brian said doubtfully. “This thing seems to be getting bigger by the minute- there’s rumours going around about Madonna being on board now.”

“Madonna?” Deacy’s eyes were wide. He sighed, crossing his arms. “Wonderful. We’re going to look ancient.”

_ “Who are these four dinosaurs?”  _ Brian asked in a high, nasally voice, wagging his finger.

“Oh bugger off,” Freddie laughed, though he had to clutch his stomach when a stab of pain hit. Roger eyed him warily, resting his hand on top of Freddie’s; Brian and Deacy sat up straighter, instantly alert.

“I don’t know about this,” Deacy said softly.

“Darlings, I’m  _ fine, _ ” Freddie insisted. “For fuck’s sake, it’s a year away!”

“I’m happy to show everyone we’re the greatest band of all time,” Roger said with a shrug, smirking, eyes glinting. “They could use the reminder.”

Brian smiled softly, and Freddie could see the indecision in his eyes. Deacy looked more wary.

“How big can this really get?” Roger asked. “And it’s only twenty minutes, right? We’ll go out there, raise some money for a good cause, and remind everyone just who we are.”

“Well…” Brian wavered, tapping his fingers against his knees. After a moment, he smiled, much more brightly. “Fuck it,” he chuckled. “Why not? From what Miami said, Bob won’t let it go if we say no anyway.”

“Yeah, the bastard’s already called me to badger us,” Roger laughed. “Deacs?”

Deacy’s frown deepened, but he shrugged. “How big can it get?” he echoed, with his usual sarcastic smile. “Can’t be too hard.”

“I wonder if Bob’s serious when he says no lights and smoke machines?”Freddie frowned at the thought. They hadn’t performed without some sort of special effect since their college days. His friends looked mildly horrified by the idea.

“We’ll be fine,” Roger said, more firmly. “Bob’s got some big names, but this isn’t like the bloody Olympics. We’ll kill it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, lads, we're ending with Live Aid 😏 Only one more chapter left! Thanks so much for reading 💕


	68. We Are The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're going to get out there and do what they do best: put on a show, and remind the world of just who they are and what they can do.
> 
> They were going to remind everyone that they were legends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! 😭 I seriously can't believe this is done. I'm awful at emotions, but I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone for sticking with me this long. I never expected this story to end up being so long, but I wouldn't have it any other way. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, subscribing, thank you for your questions and encouragement, it means so much to me 💕  
On with the show; Her Majesty, Queen!

** **

**July 9th, 1985** **  
** ** _“I've paid my dues, time after time; I've done my sentence, but committed no crime. And bad mistakes- I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through! We are the champions, my friends, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end.” -We Are The Champions, _ ** **Queen**

_ “This isn’t like the bloody Olympics.” _

_ “How big can it get? Can’t be too hard.” _

Famous last words. If there was anything to be said of Bob Geldof, it was that he didn’t half-arse things; the man went all out and dedicated himself to his chosen cause with everything he had.

Wembley Stadium and JFK; broadcast to one-hundred and fifty countries, with thirteen satellites. As Miami had dryly pointed out, the Olympics only had three. Add on the seemingly endless list of huge names performing, and it promised to be a hit. People had started calling it the biggest concert of all time as soon as the details reached the public; excitement was rampant.

And then Freddie’s doctor counselled that he shouldn’t sing. The show was only four days away, and Freddie’s voice had practically abandoned him; his throat felt like it was on fire.

“I don’t know about this,” Roger said as their practice reached its end. “Fred-”

“Oh fuck off, lovie, I’m fine,” Freddie said, but he massaged his throat, wincing. Even he had to admit he felt like shit- sounded it too, if you asked him.

“We’ve four more days,” Brian said gently. “Give it time.”

“Your doctor said you shouldn’t,” Deacy added, frowning as he put his bass down. 

“He can fuck off too,” Freddie said, hands on his hips and nose in the air. “Stop your flapping, the lot of you, it’s just a sore throat.”

Roger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Freddie-”

“Just give me a chance to get my bitchy little vocal cords in order,” Freddie said with a smile. “And then we’ll go punch a hole through the roof of that stadium.”

With a fond, exasperated smile, John said, “Wembley doesn’t have a roof.”

Roger snorted, but Brian grinned, nudging Freddie’s side. “He’s right, he doesn’t.”

_ “Fine,” _Freddie huffed, rolling his eyes, amping up the dramatics to make them grin. “Then we’ll punch a hole in the sky.” He looked at Roger pointedly. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Roger said, grinning, still a shade reluctant. Concerned as always, bless him. He flung an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. “Let’s show the whole damn world what we can do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Wembley Stadium, London, England, July 13th 1985: Live Aid** **  
** ** _“My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die. I can fly, my friends! The show must go on. The show must go on. I'll face it with a grin, I'm never giving in, on with the show! I'll top the bill, I'll overkill, I have to find the will to carry on; on with the show.” -The Show Must Go On, _ ** **Queen**

It was packed backstage, but they’d expected that. Roshan sat on Freddie’s lap, clutching a teddy bear to his chest, occasionally waving it in Freddie’s face, wordlessly asking for attention, which Freddie happily gave. It was a struggle to keep the kids all in one place; they wanted to run around and they seemed to have a knack for tripping over wires.

“Nervous?” Chrissie asked them.

“Never,” Roger said with a grin- though he was tapping his hands against his legs to the beat of _ Radio Gaga _. Brian’s smile was more sheepish, but he insisted he was fine. Deacy tapped his foot, lips pressed together, clearly a bundle of nerves.

Freddie had to admit he was horribly nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Here they were, at Wembley Stadium, and the whole world was watching. There would be no special effects; no smoke machines, no light shows, no crazy stunts and eye-grabbing costumes. Just them. Just the four of them. Four ageing queens. They hadn’t performed like this in years; he’d become so accustomed to the drama of the stage and always carefully picked his costumes. They all did.

But this time there was no leather, no jumpsuits, no easily removed clothing, no flashing lights and bright images.

They’d still put careful thought into their appearances; after all, they were showmen, thank you very much. Brian and Roger had both gone for white button-up shirts and black pants, though Roger’s was slightly too big and he wore wristbands. Deacy wore faded blue jeans and a terribly bright pink shirt with an equally bright pattern. At Roger’s raised eyebrows, he’d muttered that Veronica bought it for him.

Freddie’s outfit was the least assuming thing he’d worn on stage in a long time; a simple white tank-top and blue jeans, though he’d found a black studded armband and matching belt. Not the flashiest, but it was something. It made him feel a bit more confident, and he quite liked the effect.

And then it was their turn. Gulping, Freddie handed Roshan to Phoebe. Roshan squirmed unhappily, trying to reach for him again, but Caspian gave Freddie and Roger quick hugs and said, “Good luck!” It seemed to be a cue for the other children, because then Brian and Deacy were positively swarmed by their children, all of them babbling good luck, until their mothers tugged them away.

“Good luck, boys!” Mary called after them.

“We don’t need luck, darling!” Freddie called back, but anxiety was building in his chest. He fidgeted and bounced as they made their way to the stage, punching the air in front of him, gritting his teeth and telling himself to stop being daft.

Before he knew it, they were at the edge of the stage.

“Ready, Freddie?” Roger asked, poking him in the back with his drumstick. Freddie smiled.

“Let’s fucking do it, darling.”

_ “Her Majesty- QUEEN!” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“You made 'em laugh, you made 'em cry, you made us feel like we could fly. So don't become some background noise, a backdrop for the girls and boys who just don't know or just don't care, and just complain when you're not there. You had your time, you had the power, you've yet to have your finest hour.” -Radio Gaga, _ ** **Queen**

The cheers were deafening, but a part of Brian still felt wary. This wasn’t a _ Queen _ crowd, this was just...Well, just a _ crowd. _ And it wasn’t even _ just _ a crowd come to that, they were live in front of the whole world. Some of these people surely weren’t even _ Queen _fans.

Twenty minutes. They had twenty minutes to dazzle the whole world. Could they do it?

He looked at his friends; John, thrumming with energy, seconds away from bouncing in place as usual. Roger, twirling his drum sticks, eyes narrowed, focussed and determined. Freddie, bouncing about and waving to the crowd, beaming as he went to the piano.

Just like that, Brian was sure they could do it. They’d gotten this far, hadn’t they? Just the four of them, this odd mix-matched pack; his funny, strange friends, who he loved.

_ We can do this, _Brian thought.

Still, it was a huge reassurance to hear everyone scream and instantly start to sing as Freddie played the opening notes to _ Bohemian Rhapsody. _

But it wasn’t until _ Radio Gaga _ started that Brian had his true _ Holy shit, we can do this, _moment.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger grinned fondly as Freddie pranced across the stage, bobbing his head in tune to the music. The crowd was clapping, and Roger could see plenty of excited, eager faces, watching their every move. Freddie winked at him, and Roger’s grin widened.

Fuck it, they could do this. They were going to show the entire fucking world just what they could do; they were going to remind everyone who _ Queen _were. They were going to remind everyone that they were the greatest band of all time.

He still felt breathless when the whole crowd- everyone, every single one of them- clapped and spread their arms wide, just like the music video. They all _ knew _it, they were all in time with each other.

_ Holy fuck, _Roger thought, his grin widening. 

_ “All we hear is radio gaga, radio blah blah- radio, what’s new? Radio, someone still loves you!” _

Freddie’s back was to him, and Roger suddenly wished he could see his husband’s face, see his reaction to all this. You’d never know that Freddie had been told to sit this one out. He sounded perfect. He was full of energy, lighting up the stage.

Roger always claimed he had the best seat in the house, and he firmly stood by that now.

It was only at the end of the song that Freddie faced him, eyes shining as he belted out the last _ “Someone still loves you!” _

There was a breathless moment as _ Radio Gaga _ended, when everyone was screaming, cheering, clapping and calling their names, louder and louder. Roger could see the amazed grin on Brian’s face, the clear relief in Deacy’s eyes. He glanced to the side and saw their family and friends: Veronica’s hand was pressed to her mouth, Mary and Chrissie were gaping. Phoebe still held Roshan safe and sound; the baby waved when he noticed Roger looking at him. Cas and Robert were both elbowing each other, vying for the front spot, the best view. The other kids were all watching avidly.

Grinning, Roger faced forward again and caught Freddie’s eyes. His Omega’s smile widened and he mouthed _ “Watch me.” _

Roger nodded and, eyes sparkling, seeming ten feet tall, Freddie faced the crowd.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ “AY-OH!” _

For a moment, John held his breath, but the crowd readily responded with an ecstatic _ “AY-OH!” _of their own. This had always been a popular bit; the crowd felt involved, they loved to think they were connecting with Freddie; they loved that he was finding a way to let them join in; they responded to him with ease.

They were all in agreement that Freddie had a way of making everyone feel involved, even the people right at the back of the shows, stuck in the corners, in the dark. John envied it. He wasn’t sure he could do that.

And yet, he understood it. He knew what it was like, to have Freddie take your hand and pull you into the light. He knew what it was like, to have Freddie pull you out of your shell.

Roger and Brian were both smiling; Roger shook his head fondly and John grinned, watching his pack. His boys. Infuriating, stubborn, dramatic, all of them. And he loved them.

Nervous as he’d been about this, John didn’t ever want it to end. The longer this show continued, the more certain he was that this was _ it. _ This crowd was _ theirs _now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


** _“Buddy, you're a young man, hard man, shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday. You got blood on your face, you big disgrace, waving your banner all over the place. We will, we will rock you- sing it! We will, we will rock you, yeah!” -We Will Rock You, _ ** **Queen**

_ Well, _ Freddie thought. _ Safe to say this is going well. _ He’d been sure they’d be brilliant, but this felt _ different. _Bigger. More exciting. 

Everyone was watching avidly, and Freddie felt dizzy with it all. The whole crowd were responding beautifully, every one of them. _ They love us, _he thought, the thought making him giddy as it always did. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe they’d gotten here, all statements to the contrary.

_ We’ve done it, _ he knew, unable to stop smiling as he walked back to the piano. Just one more song and they were done. It felt surreal. Pinch him, he was dreaming. He had to be, surely? Either he was dreaming, or they’d truly just won over the entirety of Wembley. And if this was how excited the crowd in front of him was, how were people reacting at home? How was their world-wide audience reacting? Kashmira had promised to make sure their parents watched, and Freddie nearly laughed at the idea that maybe their family back in India would see this. See their _ ‘useless’ _Omega wow the world.

Fuck it, he hoped so.

He glanced back at the winds, smiling at Cas and Roshan. Cas’s eyes were shining, his mouth hanging open. Roshan looked overwhelmed by the noise, but he was watching curiously, his gaze fixated on his parents. Freddie waved, grinning when they both waved back.

He sat at the piano and tried to steady himself. Just one more song, he couldn’t afford to get overwhelmed now. His head was ringing, his ears buzzing with the noise; it seemed Miami had made sure to up the volume after all, the crafty bastard. Freddie owed him a bottle of champagne after this.

_ Focus, _Freddie sternly reminded himself.

Everyone was watching, the world was watching. Hands steady, back straight, Freddie launched into _ We Are The Champions. _

Now, more than ever, it felt like an appropriate choice.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The four of them stood together, letting the deafening applause and cheers wash over them. Roger held his head high as he thrust his fist, still clutching his drumsticks, into the air. Deacy was waving rapidly, grinning wider and wide, eyes squinting with the force of it. Brian’s chest was heaving, letting out little huffs of breathless laughter.

“We love you!” Freddie told the crowd and, impossibly, the noise grew. Laughing, Roger scooped Freddie up into his arms, spinning him around, ignoring Freddie’s “Put me _ down, _ you rotter!” 

And then Deacy’s arms were around them, and Brian’s, and they were clinging together, all of them laughing, shaking, overwhelmed.

“Oh holy shit,” Brian breathed. Everyone was still cheering, shouting their names; Freddie was the first to pull away. His eyes were bright, his smile amazed. He nodded to the crowd and waved one last time. 

Without a word, he led the way off the stage. Roger hurried after him, Brian and Deacy at his side.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The second they were backstage, they were bombarded. Cas barrelled straight into them, clinging to them.

“That was _ so cool! _” he cried. “Dad, Papa, that was awesome!”

“Everyone was so loud,” Jimmy said, beaming up at Brian, while Robert demanded, “How’d you _ do _that?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Deacy admitted with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“We’re fabulous, that’s how,” Freddie said, happily taking Roshan back from Phoebe. Other artists were hovering, watching them. Some looked amazed, some looked jealous, but most looked happy.

“You bastards!” Elton cried, pushing through the crowd, Bernie at his heels. “You stole the show!”

Roger could only grin at that. He wasn’t about to deny it.

They’d done it. They’d really done it.

Miami approached them, clapping, with that familiar proud smile.

“Safe to say that was a success, eh, lads?” he asked.

“Reckon so,” Brian said. Chrissie pecked him on the cheek and Jimmy rolled his eyes. John picked Laura up; she was clapping, humming _ We Will Rock You _to herself.

“That was so cool,” Cas repeated, more vehemently. “Are you doing that again?”

“We’ll be on again later, darling,” Freddie promised him, ruffling his hair. Cas seemed delighted; he totally lit up and he took Roger’s hand, grinning up at him. When he was a teenager, Roger would have scoffed at the idea of having kids. He’d have rolled his eyes at the idea that, despite wowing the world, his sons’ excitement mattered the most.

But it did, it really did. Cas was thrumming with excitement, and Roshan was smiling at him and Freddie like they were the most magical things in the world.

Maybe, to their sons, they were. Roger was more than happy with that.

He looked at Freddie, and was met with a fond gaze, a slightly shy smile.

“I love you, Roggie,” Freddie said.

“Love you too, Fred,” Roger said, because he did, he always did, always had, always would. He’d never stop.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A short while later, they were all gathered by the golden trailer that had been assigned to _ Queen. _Roshan was dozing, his face pressed against Freddie’s chest as the Omega softly stroked his hair. Even Cas was starting to yawn, and Roger knew they really ought to ask Phoebe to bring the boys home.

That could wait for a while longer. He didn’t want to let them go just yet.

“We have to come back here,” Brian said, sipping his beer. “We _ have _to.”

“Oh, we will, darling,” Freddie said with his usual mischievous smile. “And we’ll be even better, mark my words.” When he spoke like that, in that determined tone, Roger couldn’t help but believe him.

Then again, he’d always believed in Freddie. It wasn’t a decision he’d regret any time soon.

Smiling, Roger raised his plastic cup of beer. “I’ll drink to that,” he said brightly.

Deacy raised his cup. “To _ Queen, _” he said, head held high.

They raised their cups and Miami, Mary, Veronica, Phoebe and Chrissie joined them. Together, they said, “To _ Queen, _ knocking their cups together, all of them smiling, still full of adrenaline.

It felt like a day, a night, without an end. Time seemed to stand still and Roger almost couldn’t believe they’d be heading back to Garden Lodge after this. It felt like a dream come true.

In many ways, it was.

Freddie leaned against him, Cas curled up with his head on Roger’s lap and Roshan let out a tiny snore. The night was warm, and Roger listened to the acts on stage with half an ear, idly tapping his finger against the back of his chair. He was still full of energy, the adrenaline begging to be released- and most of all, he felt _ happy, _unable to stop smiling. He was sure he couldn’t have stopped if he’d been paid to.

Because Roger was right where he was meant to be: with his boys, his pack, his family. It hadn't been a smooth road; oftentimes, things were crazy. They were rough, harsh; it hadn't all been easy. It wasn't a fairytale, but that didn't mean they didn't get a happy ending. They deserved one.

Freddie smiled at him and Roger kissed his forehead. _This_ was what he wanted. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  
  
  
  
  
  
** _“It's so easy now, 'cause you got friends you can trust. Friends will be friends; when you're in need of love they give you care and attention. Friends will be friends. When you're through with life and all hope is lost, hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends...Right till the end.” -Friends Will Be Friends, _ ** **Queen**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter was the perfect excuse to go and watch Live Aid again...)
> 
> And that's it! The last chapter of Let The Feeling Grow! Once more, a HUGE thank you to everyone for sticking with me through all this, thank you, thank you, thank you 💕
> 
> And with that, onward to the rest of the series...

**Author's Note:**

> Someone help these boys, they're a mess.


End file.
